A Second Chance
by HelplessTurtle
Summary: Severus moves to the muggle world to start a new life, only to find someone he never thought to see again. But after a friendship he never thought he could have, has he ruined it for the worst? Thanks for the 38000 hits!
1. Prologue

First of all, let me say that this was reposted. It was on my sister's account, but now, since I have my own, it's going back up again.

Don't say anything of my uncreative way of putting in disclaimers, please, at least this does the job. This is not, I repeat, not a work completely made by me. All characters as of this prologue, the settings, and most of the memories are true things in the world of Harry Potter…okay, not now, because of the sixth book. But you know what I mean. These go to the one and only J.K. Rowling.

To give a complete summary, as that on the previous page are rather limited in space, I'll type one here: After the final battle, Severus Snape escapes from the confines of the rapidly diminishing wizarding world, hoping to find a source of comfort in the untainted muggle world. Finding an old estate in Napa Valley, and rich from the money he was left with as an orphan, he finds a relaxing life. He meets a familiar young woman in his daily break form lonliness in the park, and as she is consumed by an incurable disease, he realizes how much more she was than the girl he once saw her as. He finds more in this new world than he ever thought it contained.

This first chapter is a prolouge, mostly setting up the story. Since many people seem to dislike when there is only the prologue and what they just read had nothing to do with the summary, I have also posted the next chapter. Thank you for reading, review when you are done, and enjoy.

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Severus S. Snape, Potions Master and Professor of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, strode down the halls, his image illuminated by the dim, flickering flames lining the walls at intervals at either side of him. The man wasn't on night patrol, looking for wandering first-years and other miscreants that should be in bed, but rather hurrying to the Headmaster's office, his long strides pulling him closer to his destination. Yet, even as fast as he could make his legs move and still preserve his dignity, it didn't seem like it was fast enough. As the hall continued to stretch on, one wavering flame to the next, his thoughts tumbled in disarray inside his head.

The last few Deatheater meetings had been a strain on the spy. His fellow Deatheaters had been suspicious of his actions even before the school year had begun, and now, as it became apparent that Lord Voldemort was rising once again, everyone seemed to spy on everyone else, and many tried to find a reason that Severus Snape should not be trusted. Of course, he wasn't the only one.

This evening, after being called for the third time that week to the Dark Lord's side and watching yet another man fall victim to the reptilian man's wrath, everyone of them had been notified of the upcoming battle. This time, it was to be a mass attack, not on muggles, like it had been in the past, but on Hogwarts, and the man now heading towards the Headmaster's office felt that it was his duty to notify the older man, even if it cost him his life and his sacred position of spy. One of the jobs as a professor was to ensure the safety of his students, and, much against the thoughts of most of the residents here at Hogwarts, he did actually care about them.

Abruptly, the man stopped, staring at two stone gargoyles guarding a large double door known to lead to the headmaster's office. After a short moment, he recalled the password he had been given at the beginning of the year, and the word he snapped out hung in the air before the guardians shifted and he was allowed inside. "Licorice." The word, monotonous and soft, held a quiet force in it that did not want to be disobeyed. He swept up the circular staircase, his heels clicking as he ascended.

"Albus." He stood at the entrance to the large room, decorated with small trinkets and whirling, animate objects and furnished with a large desk, which stood in the middle of the magnificent space. However, he ignored he glittering pieces, watching a single door at the end of the room that he knew led to the old man's private chambers. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night, or that the person he was seeking was sleeping in his bed. Even if he hadn't been heard, there was a highly unlikely chance that his presence wasn't known. The old man had an uncanny sense that knew who was standing there. So it just so happened that an old wizard, wiping his glasses on his midnight blue robe that was covered by a long white beard, shuffled through the door, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Yes, Severus? You wished to talk to me about something?" He placed his spectacles on the crooked bridge of his nose, peering intently through them at the man before him. His voice, soft, nevertheless carried across the expanse of the room.

"The Dark Lord is to attack on the first of next month." His answer was blunt, and straight to the point. It was so unexpected that even the powerful Albus Dumbledore, who was rarely surprised by anything, gave a slight start.

"You mean here, at Hogwarts?" He was still staring at him in that unnerving way of his, and Severus rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he snapped, a little sharper than he meant it to be. "Of course! You've been expecting this for years and all you can say is 'You mean here'? There's no time for surprises, he could do anything! I--"

"Calm down, Severus. We'll cross the next bridge when we come to it. Now, sit down and tell me everything you can. How about a little tea?" The older man bustled around, pulling out a chair in front of the desk and pouring a steaming pot of tea that had appeared at his side before settling in his seat, cradling his own cup in between his palms. He waited in silence, staring at his weathered reflection in the dark liquid before looking up at the professor standing before him. "Well?"

Sighing, Severus sat down, accepting a portion of the hot brew and taking a sip. He leaned back in his seat, staring pensively at a strand of dark hair in front of his eyes before meeting the other's gaze.

"Everyone arrived quickly enough. Under our masks, everyone was tired; even the Dark Lord seemed a little exhausted," he began, dropping his gaze to the polished surface of the mahogany table where the dim light of the moon's beams reflected to illuminate his features. "After all, we had already raided the towns two nights that week, and it was beginning to catch up to all of us. He began with a speech, similar to the ones he gives every time about taking control of the world and killing muggleborns when he suddenly turned to face one of the men on the other side of the circle, opposite of where I was standing. Calling to one of the others to bring him up, he tortured him to unconsciousness before telling us of his traitorous actions and how he was undeserving of his position in the Death Eater ranks." He paused, daring to steal a glance at Albus before hastily returning his gaze to the table and continuing his story.

"But you already know that, it would be strange if such an event did not happen. He allowed the body to be dragged away before announcing his reason for calling us again. What he said surprised us all.

"He didn't say 'We're attacking Hogwarts' or 'The final battle begins has arrived' and flair with melodramatics as all of us had always thought he would do when the time came. Instead, he hissed to us in his most venemous tone that 'The Potter boy will be dead before the end of next month'. In those exact words. Many were confused by his strange choice of words, and I'll admit I was too, thinking that he had found a way to kill the boy without a full-fledged fight, but it was soon clear to us that we were to prepare for the final battle. It will be on the first of next month," he repeated, hoping to get his haste to pass on to the headmaster.

However, the old man only sat there, still gazing into his cup of tea. His expression didn't look alarmed, or even worried, but quite the opposite. His features remained calm, and Severus growled quietly to himself with frustration. What exactly didn't the old man understand? Hogwarts was to be attacked in the next week and a half and the only thing he could do was sit there? Severus couldn't stand it anymore, he had had enough of the old man's lack of reactions.

"Don't you get it? This castle, filled with promising students and the best wizards and witches of this time, are about to be attacked by V-V-Voldemort's ranks and all you can do is stare at a cup of tea?" He was so angry he hardly even noticed he'd said the Dark Lord's name aloud. "Aren't you going to do something about it? How about preparing them for battle? Or reinforcing the wards? You can't just sit there!" He snapped his mouth shut at his explosion, not daring to say anything else for fear of offending the wizard in front of him.

The headmaster just chuckled in response. "Patience, patience. You forgot about the ghosts and house elves and the portraits in your haste. Think before you do anything rash."

Severus, as strong, confident, and intimidating as he usually seemed, felt ashamed at those words. He took a deep breath, then looked at Albus, trying to squash down his haste. "What will we do? Don't you always think of something?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed after a long period of silence, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples as he murmured, "A common misconception. I don't know. What can you do against an army of trained killers when the only army you have is one of innocent children? The ministry can't do much, besides, it would give you away. I do believe that is too much to risk."

"So?" Severus said bitterly, the words leaving his mouth before he had a chance to think about them.. "Who cares?"

The headmaster looked up at that, his face serious. "Severus, my boy, someone will always care about you. I'm not saying that the things people say about you aren't true…though many are not. It might seem that every student calls you 'the greasy git', or that the people around you think you act like a cold vampire. Everyone would be as concerned as me if you were to disappear, Severus. You may be a bastard, but to us, you're our official resident bastard, and I'll be sure that someone will put that on your gravestone when you have lived out your days." He gave a small, wry smile at that. Even the corner of Severus's mouth twitched at the comment.

"Now," the old man continued, placing his recently emptied teacup on the saucer on the table, "I do believe you should get to bed and change out of those robes." He gestured to the black folds of the Death Eater robes adorning the younger man's body, his eyes twinkling as he reached an arm over the table to place a comforting hand on the professor's shoulder. "Good night, and don't forget what I told you."

Severus turned away, muttering something like, "I know, I know, old man," before quickly stepping over to the threshold of the headmaster's office and exiting the room. He paused at hearing the old man's voice float to him again. "Oh, and one more thing. No great wizard knows everything, not I, not Tom Riddle, not even Harry Potter. But everyone, even you, knows just a little something to contribute to the war."

He froze, wanting to say something before he left, but when he turned around, the headmaster was gone, and any remnant of their tea had disappeared. He stared at the door at the other side of the room for a moment, then, turning on his heel and making to shut the door behind him, he whispered, "Good night."

Severus S. Snape, Potions Master and Professor of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, strode down the halls, his image illuminated by the dim, flickering flames lining the walls at intervals at either side of him. The man wasn't on night patrol, looking for wandering first-years and other miscreants that should be in bed, but rather hurrying to his chambers in the damp coldness of the dungeons, hoping to catch some sleep before he had to meet the inevitable, noisy morning of Hogwarts.

* * *

The week passed by in a blur for Severus. The normal ritual of sneering at breakfast, teaching dunderheads, deducting points, sneering at lunch, teaching more dunderheads, deducting more points, and giving a last glare at the pigheads he had to teach before retiring for the night had continued everyday, regardless of the perilous situation the school was in. At least, he thought to himself, as he watched his second-years bending tediously over their cauldrons, there hadn't been any further Death Eater meetings from the Dark Lord. And to think he had accidentally said _his_ name just a week ago. He sighed, wondering if anyone, besides himself and Headmaster Dumbledore, knew what was going to happen less than five days from now. No one seemed to be panicking, which, Severus supposed, was a good thing, and no one seemed to be acting strange around his Slytherins. Not even Potter was acting any different; as far as he knew, the boy hadn't received any dreams at all. At least he didn't have to teach him Occlumency again, the boy was hardly capable of learning the simplest spells, much less something so complex. He couldn't really blame him, as much as he wanted to. There were very few people at the school who probably could, and that included every seventh year and every professor in residence.

That led him to think about what had been bugging him these past few nights. What was it the old man had told him? Oh yes. He had said, _No great wizard knows everything, not I, not Tom Riddle, not even Harry Potter. But everyone, even you, knows just a little something to contribute to the war. _But what exactly had he meant by that? It seemed straightforward enough, but why had he even said it at all? Of course no one wizard knew everything, especially that Potter boy. He sneered at that. The young boy didn't even know half the things that went on outside of Hogwarts. That only showed how ignorant the students could really get, just because they lived behind the warded walls of a castle that stood under Headmaster Dumbledore's control.

And he knew he could contribute to the war. After all, wasn't he the one member of the Order of the Phoenix who brought back all the information from the Dark Lord and risked his life so many times with out result that sometimes he just felt like a little unknown messenger? _Well, not all_, he corrected himself. There were just some things that a spy didn't tell other people, no matter how much they thought they needed to know it. Severus Snape was the only person who knew what went on inside the inner circles of both sides, and he intended to keep it that way.

But, back to his original thoughts. He already knew it all, and he knew that he wasn't useless, although he felt that way. And the headmaster knew just as much, Severus was sure of it. Why did the old wizard always seem to talk in the strangest riddles that no one could solve until it seemed it was too late? He sighed, giving his head a mental shake before returning to his work.

The day came early, too soon. The students had just arrived at the Great Hall, playing April Fool's jokes on each other when everything gave a mighty shake. Benches crashed, food toppled to splash on the ground, students began screaming in the commotion. Nothing else was clear after that.

Students prepared in classrooms for the upcoming battle, their nerves putting one or two of them in a state of trauma before the fight had even started. Severus shook his head as he strode down the corridors purposefully, patrolling to make sure no students were somewhere they shouldn't be. Surprisingly, even the golden trio was listening to instructions. No one seemed to have any kind of rebellious streak left in them anymore, it was as if they had already lost the battle. After coming across two more classrooms with the same atmosphere of submission, he couldn't stand it anymore. He ran up to the Astronomy tower, staring at the massive ranks of Death Eaters as thoughts ran through his head.

_How can someone be so evil to attack so many innocent children? They shouldn't have to be like me, cold and emotionless, never wanting to face life again! Why? Isn't there anything else we can do? For them?_

As he watched the dark figures beneath him mill around the gates, he gritted his teeth, his grip around his wand tightening as well. How much he just wanted to choke them, shake them, crucio them to death…

He was broken out of his angry trance at the metallic sound of something skidding across the stone floor, hitting the wall with a small _clang!_ Turning with a start, he saw a small hourglass-like pendant leaning against the wall, connected to a fine golden chain, which seemed to have snapped. Bending over to pick it up, he was surprised to the name _Hermione J. Granger_ embossed upon the base of it. He peered around the corner, and not seeing anyone, decided to put it in his robes for safekeeping. He would return it to her after the battle.

It never occurred to him that he might not see her at all.

The battlefield, once the grassy, serene grounds of Hogwarts, was now filled with lights, cloaked figures, prone bodies, and blood. Severus Snape fought his way through them, taking out his anger on his fellow Death Eaters as the light side slowly began to emerge. He had just caught a glimpse of Hermione Granger on the ground when he felt his hip hit with a spell. Slowly, he fell to the ground, amidst the shattering sound of the time-turner in his pocket, and he could only watch the chain slither out of his pocket as he felt himself pulled into a whirl of time. Slowly, he felt himself become numb, and as the sounds of killing faded away, all he knew was darkness.

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I just finished editing it for the repost…wow, I had a lot of errors. Typos and the such, but nevertheless, still mistakes. I hope that the end doesn't seem to be moving too fast, in the way that it seems to be ignored, I'm just not too sure how to write the final battle.

This is a small sample of my writing, and you'll find more in the next chapter. Hope it is a satisfying read!

Oh, and since I've been hearing a lot about not being able to answer reviews, I'll stay on the safe side now, but can anyone tell me if that rule is true or not? Sorry, I haven't been keeping up with announcements, and I know I sound malleable, but I'd like to know. Thank you!


	2. Leaving Home

Here's my second chapter. Again this is not, I repeat, not a work completely made by me. All characters as of this prologue, the settings, and most of the memories are true things in the world of Harry Potter. These go to the one and only J.K. Rowling.

The real story starts here. I typed this up a while ago, and I edited it while listening to the House of Flying Daggers soundtrack. If you've watched the movie, or perhaps heard the soundtrack, you might catch a glimpse of the mood behind the words. Once more, enjoy the story!

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_It was a gloomy, drizzling day for any visitor coming to Napa Valley. The clouds overhead were low and misty, a pearly white enhanced by the small, thin sheets of rain covering everything in small, wet droplets. A crow called harshly from a large sycamore, flapping its wings and disappearing into the clouds above a large, but somewhat cozy, house. The living quarters seemed to hold the same mood as the weather outside, and even the plants drooped with the weight of the water on their leaves. In one room, the window was wide open, allowing the thick, damp air come inside and rustle the thin curtains halfway closed over the opening. In the small space, lined with cream colored walls and furnished with only a large desk, a chair, a dusty bureau, and a small mirror hanging from above the dresser, a man sat, bending over the pages of an average sized, worn book. His eyebrows creased in concentration, dark hair covering his pronounced features, his deep onyx eyes took in what sat cradled in his hands before him. The scrawl on the pages seemed untidy and painfully small, but he read on, ignoring the inkblots and scribbles that decorated the page every now and then. Flipping the page, he continued reading, forgetting about the rain that drizzled through the window to dampen the floorboards inside.

* * *

_

Straightening from his bent position that he had been in for the past two hours, he stood up, stretching his back muscles as he looked around in the dim light before him. He ran his fingers through his thin, raven black hair in an attempt to keep it out of his face, pulling the ends behind his ears. But, as he bent down to place another robe in the bag at his feet, the silky locks of hair slid from their place behind his ears to form a curtain around his face once again. Peering in the small mirror that he had unhooked from the side of his wardrobe and was now sitting in his palms, he gazed at his reflection. The curse had hit the delicate instrument sitting in his pocket that fateful, intense day, setting loose the sands of time within, and the instrument had activated in a strange way that had made his appearance return to that of his 19-year old self. Of course, his memories still remained intact, though every physical feature had changed, from the trace of crow's feet in the skin by his eye to the length of his feathery wisps of hair. A pity that his hair was too short to place in a loose ponytail anymore, he mused as he ignored the distraction and continued emptying out his closet, placing the items in the luggage case on the worn floor he was standing upon.

Severus had been one of the few who had survived through the war. The last battle itself hadn't been the longest, yet, as each attack took away the lives of more muggle-borns and half-bloods, the population of the wizarding world had diminished, until, without proper balance, the society had caved in upon itself. Some, such as the healers at St. Mungo's, Headmaster Dumbledore, and a few of the more steadfast aurors still worked continuously to bring back up the population, to a reasonable number if not to the once large amount of wandering witches and wizards as there had once been. He himself had tried researching various potions, as was his expertise, or experimenting with others to find cures for those who had been hit by unknown curses, yet the efforts had turned out fruitless. After all the years of his hard life, and his failure in keeping Hogwarts safe, he had also failed to help those who needed him, and so he had decided to try and forget this life. So it was that he was packing, late into the night, hoping to escape the terrors of the fallen wizarding world and into the comforts of the muggles, who had barely a clue that anything had gone on just a year ago.

He paused in his packing, leaning his head against the sharp edge of the closet as he tried to rid his mind of the images swimming before his eyes. The nightmares the war had bestowed upon everyone held deeply to every person's heart, every child, every parent, even Severus, who had seen so much before in his life as a Deatheater spy. Failing in his attempt to continue his self-appointed task without the memories reminding him why he was doing the said job, he left it half-done, striding out of the room, grabbing his wand and cloak in the process.

It was cool in the corriders of the dungeons. As autumn neared, the temperatures had dropped, and he pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he shivered, not just from the chill, but the lingering memories that had just invaded his mind a few moments ago. Thank goodness no students were here to see him like such, so vulnerable. How he hated that, being helpless, and to think if people saw him like that!

It was not winter break, far from it in fact. And the corridors weren't empty because it was late at night, past their curfew. There was no curfew, no wandering students, and no small pieces of parchment left from the day's milling activities. The school was empty, devoid of anyone, anything. The only residents were Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and himself. Passing by his old potions classroom, he paused, pushing open the door to gaze at the empty desks and workbenches inside. No cauldrons stood at the worktables, no potions sat in the cupboards; no mortars and pestles on the shelves, no bronze balances or scales gleaming from the light at his wandtip. The silence made the ex-professor almost wish for the noisy classes of boisterous students to fill the classroom again, as much as he detested the dunderheads. He hadn't hated them really. He just believed in the older teaching methods, much like the caretaker, Mr. Filch, had. Argus Filch. He too had disappeared after the battle. In fact, many had disappeared. No one had located the missing bodies, not a single trace. It was as if half of them had disappeared. Severus had a strong suspicion that many of them had become muggles, either stripped of their magic or out of desperation. Blinking back tears, he shut the door quietly, unlike his once favored slamming and dramatic entrances. He hadn't the heart to do it anymore. It brought back many unwanted memories.

He continued down the unused hallways of Hogwarts, remembering the daily bustle as he stepped over the smooth cobblestones that had become so worn from many years of use, recalling the accidents and detentions that had resulted from the students carelessness as he watched the frozen staircases and dusty armor, reminiscing over the staff meetings as he passed by various empty classrooms and the staff rooms, seeing the fireplaces that had once held cheery fires now dark with ashes. He hadn't taken such a deep look at this keep of magic for so long, he thought that he would have forgotten it all if he hadn't taken this last glance. Climbing up the stairways past the Great Hall, the students' dorms, the Headmaster's office, and finally to the heights of the astronomy tower, he gazed across the grounds, seeing the empty quidditch stands, the lifeless hut of the gatekeeper, the outline of the once forbidden Dark Forest. Even that seemed to have lost its horrific grandeur.

Upon returning to his chambers, he pulled open the door. There was no need for passwords or wards now. Hanging his cloak on the crooked coat stand by the entrance, he returned to his bedroom, sighing at the work left. Picking up where he had left off, he continued to fold his robes, which he supposed he would never use anymore, as the light of the candles flickered, the wax melting as time passed.

Yawning, he surveyed what was left in his chambers. The pieces of furniture, a little worn from the many years of service they had served, were now completely empty. The only things that had not been packed away were tomorrow's change of clothes sitting folded on the chair, the bath towels and accessories he would use before he left, and of course, the bed sheets and pillowcases that he would be sleeping with tonight. Giving himself a mental reminder to give the last few occupants of the great castle a farewell before he left tomorrow, no, today, for it was indeed morning, he checked the room once more before changing into his pajamas and climbing into his bed, the soft mattress lulling him into a deep, restful sleep.

* * *

The next morning came all too soon. Before he knew it, the sun was shining upon the grounds, his belongings had all been stowed away, breakfast and coffee had gone down, and it was time to give Albus and Minerva their farewells. Now, he stood at the great doors of the entrance he had entered so long ago, the exact place had felt the awe and wonder of the mystical building flood over him as a welcomed first year. Now after all of these years as a student, an apprentice, and finally a professor, he was finally leaving.

"Take care, Severus, we'll miss you." The Headmaster's blue eyes twinkled kindly from behind his spectacles, a tinge of sadness hidden behind the reflecting glasses. He gave the younger man's shoulder a slight, fatherly squeeze before stepping back and allowing the Transfiguration professor to give him her farewells as well.

"Yes, you can be sure we will. We'll keep in touch somehow, and we'll make sure you keep updated on the events here…" By this, she did not mean Hogwarts. After the last two last occupants left, it would stand just as the ruins of a great monument, not just to the non-magical, but to those who knew magic as well. Her eyes were filled with a misty look for a moment, then it cleared away, and her brisk being was back again. "Do you have everything? You did take along the refreshments, didn't you?"

Severus looked slightly guilty at the disapproving gaze Minerva gave him. He had left the sweets on the Head Table, or what had once been called so. Of course, the three still dined in that spot out of habit, and when the other two had been engaged in morning conversation during breakfast, he dropped them on the corner of the table, sneaking away before they noticed.

"Not to worry." The Headmaster ignored the guilty look on his young friend's face, pretending that the package had just been left there out of forgetfulness, not disgust. "I have them here, I found them and thought it was best to bring them along so I could return it to you later." He now pulled out the brown, slightly lumpy square, a makeshift bag that had been stuffed with candies and tied together with a piece of hemp rope, and offered it to Severus, who held back a groan at the unwanted parcel. Still, he accepted it, wanting to make them happy, even if he never would eat the contents. He had never had much of a sweet tooth, but he would be sure that they did not go to waste. After all, what was wrong with accepting a gift?

He nodded at them, taking the wrapped gift and placing it in one of his various bags. "I'll just say good-bye, then, if there is nothing else?" His eyebrow was raised questioningly, out of old habit.

"Of course not, we don't want to make you late." Minerva bustled around him, acting every part of a worried mother. Brushing off the hands that were attempting to flatten the collar around his neck, he pulled down the hem of his sweater, then picked up his belongings.

"Make me late" He snorted at this, then regained his respectful composure. "Good-bye, Minerva, Albus," he turned to each one in turn. "I hope to hear from you soon." Quickly, he turned away, trying not to be moved to tears at the wistful looks on their faces. Taking up his last bag, (he hadn't shrunken them as he was moving to the muggle world, where he felt it best not to perform magic) he turned, pushing open the door with difficulty as he exited. Slowing slightly, he walked down the path that led to what had once been an entrance, and now stood as an exit, to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Turning back as he neared the gates, he watched two small figures waving to him, cloaks fluttering in the wind. Behind them, the stones that had held the most powerful witches and wizards a few months ago stood barren, empty. It seemed as if the walls could really become ruins, as if the illusion that it held to so many could become reality. He took one last long look at the castle, then resolutely pressed on, not looking back at the castle that had been his home.

* * *

With an effort, the man sitting at the table opened his eyes, staring at the steaming cup of dark coffee before him. The swirls of vapor dancing across the smooth reflecting surface threatened to send him asleep again, and he groaned. Not the morning he had wished for at all. And sleeping late for two long nights in a row did not help his mood. First, the whole night packing, then trying not to doze while waiting for the ministry to take care of his withdrawal from the magical community (in a rather unorganized way, he might add), and lastly as his taxi finally pulled up to the large estate he now owned. He never could sleep in muggle vehicles, and after a long, uncomfortable plane flight and the time difference that he now had to get used to, Severus wondered when he would be able to explore the sparsely furnished interior. Albus had persuaded him to let the house elves move the items from his father's old manor to the new estate in Napa, and he felt a little thankful now for the old man's foresight.

Quickly downing the contents of his rapidly cooling beverage, he pushed his chair back from the breakfast table and placed his cup in the sink, too lazy to think of washing it right now. He felt absolutely terrible. Even the shower he had taken earlier in the morning hadn't helped. The idea of buying food, unpacking his belongings and the task of overseeing the rather large grounds and even the small house he was inside of seemed to be too much. Oh well, first things first, he decided. Severus Snape never was a person to leave things to themselves, anyway.

Forgetting about the cup in his sink, he made his way up the staircase. He knew his bedroom was upstairs, at the very least. As he entered, he saw his various bags cluttered against the wardrobe against the wall and groaned again. Pulling the bags away from the closet so he could open the doors, he twisted his mouth in distaste as he surveyed the dusty-smelling interior. This was going to take a while; the furniture hadn't even been cleaned for the last five or so years. He was fairly sure he could see the house-elves' fingerprints in the dust where they had used their hands instead of a levitation charm. What else was there? It perked up his curiosity, and he decided to take a look at the rooms first instead. At least he was still getting something done. Still, he felt as if he was getting a bit lazy after just one day in the muggle world.

He peered out of the door, looking down the dim loft at the various doorways. He hadn't noticed earlier that every curtain had been tactfully closed, letting in no curious eyes, yet not allowing the least bit of sunlight at the same time. Pulling back the drapes that covered the window at the end of the den where the bedroom was situated, he immediately felt a flood of warmth flow through him as the sunlight streamed in. The whole area seemed brighter already. Turning back to the doors he had noticed earlier, he pushed open one of the double doors and stepped in. He could hardly contain his surprise.

It turned out that the room next to the bedroom was a large library, which seemed fairly free of dust but filled with his many books. One wall, only a large, ornate clock hanging near the high ceiling, was taken up by a large, recently used fireplace and a bronze mantel. Against another, his father's old mahogany desk stood, and closer to the fireplace were three armchairs, one even with its own footrest, a small table beside them. A chandelier was suspended from the crisscrossing beams of pine, the dim glow of metal reflecting a slit of light where the curtains were not quite closed. Stepping across the threshold, over the dark wooden floor, and onto the carpet that did not quite cover a good foot of the edge floorboards, he pulled open a set of the drapes, surprised at the sight that met his eyes.

From here, he could see the extensive grounds, only the few branches of a maple covering a small portion of the window. It took up that whole section of the wall, from ceiling to hardwood floor, and when he turned, he realized that the rest of the wall must have been a window too. Pulling open the other drapes with renewed vigor, he stared at the immense view before him.

If he had thought that the view had been grand before, it was nothing compared to this. He could see everything; he could have drawn a map of the gardens from here, the sprawling grounds on this side of the house, anyway. It would be a great place to read, the fireplace radiating heat as the chilly, autumn wind whistled outside, while he sat in the cozy room curled up in a chair, staring outside every now and then at the stars twinkling outside… He hadn't felt awe like this since he had first arrived at Hogwarts. _Finally_, he thought in satisfaction. _A library like this to myself_.

Smiling once more, he turned to exit the room, reluctantly removing his hand from the doorknob before leaving the inviting doors to explore what more the house, no, home, had to give.

He was about to go down the staircase when he caught a glimpse of a single door at his left. Turning back, he placed his hand on that doorknob too, and, finding that the door gave in easily to his slight push, he entered. The room seemed a bit disappointing, after the grandeur he had seen in the last one. The floor here was also made of wooden floorboards, but this time of a lighter, polished oak. The walls, a light crème, held only a single mirror, small and oval, which he recognized as one he had passed by many times in the halls during his childhood. The window, however, made up for its plainness; a great flood of sunshine falling in to puddle on the honey colored floor below. There seemed to be no curtains or covering whatsoever. Severus noted that, and that the room was in the corner of the house, for at the top of the wall adjacent to that of the window, three small squares also let in streaks of sunlight. His own desk was against the side of the window, accompanied by a small bookcase, and the only other piece of furniture was the wooden trunk against the wall directly opposite, the one that had sat at the foot of his bed years ago. It had been left behind when he had gone to Hogwarts, and, peering inside, he found that all of the small keepsakes inside were there still, untouched. Closing the lid as memories began to fill his head, he stood abruptly, leaving the room behind him as he stepped down the stairs.

Glancing about, it seemed as if everything bought back memories. In the foyer that he now faced, beside the dark mahogany doors, a single potted plant stood on the polished granite tiles, the pot being one his mother had favored when he had been no more than a child. Turning about, he found himself drawn to a small living room, and as he stepped onto the soft carpet, his toes curling over the fibers, he was claimed by another wave of memories. The set of couches, the ones that used to stand in the middle of the library that his father opened to his guests, looked the same as they had then. He could imagine himself curled up on one as he read yet another book across from his parents, who were recounting the day's events, to which he had once been so immune too. The same coffee table that he had hit his head against when he'd been a child was just as how he remembered it, down to the last chip, which he fingered now. The thick drapes he pulled open, along with the thin white muslin of the curtains beneath, and it seemed like yesterday that his mother had done the same, the thin lace edges brushing the ground like so. Having seen the rest of the room, he continued through a doorway to find an empty room, small and open to the kitchen. It must have been the dining room. Of course, Severus thought wryly. Any dining table his parents ever had would be much too large to fit here, as they had always entertained so many visitors. Peeking through another doorway, he found a bar, tinted windows causing the room to look a little old-fashioned. Yet another valuable asset, he thought to himself. It wouldn't be empty for long, he was in Napa Valley, wasn't he?

The kitchen was the brightest room in the house. Its white walls and bright oak floors reflected the sunlight that came in through the panel of windows above the counter, and to one side, it opened to a breakfast nook, a sliding glass door leading to the shaded patio and gardens outside. The pantry was against the opposite wall of the counters, underneath the stairs, Severus guessed. Passing the island, he was reminded of the mug he had left in the sink. Not stopping to wash it, he continued on his fruitful tour of the house, turning around the bend at the other side of the kitchen.

Another small room opened between the entrance room and where he was standing. It was like a family room, yet much too small. Looking at the near corner, he found exactly what the elves had intended this room to be for. His piano stood against the wall, polished and dark. The smooth surface reflected the dapples the leaves outside had cast on the window, and ignoring the beckon and retreating back upstairs, he went straight back to his room. He couldn't help thinking how glad he was that he had chosen a house like this: small, yet effective. The floor plans he had looked at before popped up in his mind, and he made a mental note to take a look around outside later.

Bending over to begin his unpacking, he realized with a start that they were unzipped and empty. His first reaction was that ill fortune had already overcome him, and that someone had taken his belongings (which he sorely needed), but then he glimpsed a small note on the bedside table nearby. Sitting on the bed as he reached for the note, he read:

_I hope you are settling in. I sent a house elf to unpack for you, for I thought you might be tired after your journey. Besides, I thought a small piece of magic might send you its last farewells before it was altogether gone. Take care, and I hope I can see you again soon._

It didn't have a signature, but it didn't need one. He could hear the old man's voice as if he was speaking right next to his ear, and the words brought comfort to him. Folding up the note and placing it into the drawer, he shut it with a hollow clunk, rising from the bed to look at his wardrobe.

Placing the empty bags underneath his hanging pants and coats, he tugged a bit at the items that seemed to be sticking out, and then, smiling with satisfaction at the organization of his house, he whispered two small words, quiet yet meaningful.

"Thank you."

What he didn't know was that the house elf was still there, in the shadows, its eyes watering at the small bit of gratitude it had received before disappearing with a small pop.

* * *

Please review! Two chapters seem like enough to give you a bit of the story, and I'll gladly accept any feedback or comments you have. I've merged my first and second chapter to make it move a bit faster, and for those of you that have read this before and are looking for updates, keep on reading. I'm going to add some extra little events in. I'll update as soon as possible! 


	3. Familiar Faces

Now, I know that some of you have already read the sixth Harry Potter book. Well, guess what? I haven't. Since some of my friends told me that it would ruin my fanfic, I've decided to finish this before I read it. I can't even read fanfics anymore because those have spoilers too! I will request no spoilers on who dies or what happens to Hermione, Severus, Albus, or Minerva (and any other characters I happen to add later) in any reviews. If what happened in the sixth book is so outrageous that I can't read it and still continue this, I wonder if anyone will still read this now…but it is fanfiction, so I can make up my own plot, can't I?

I do not make any claim to the characters, the time turner, or any magical or non-magical thing that I did not create. I suppose that would leave only the park, his house, and maybe the street down the block…oh, and I do not own Napa Valley or Jane Eyre, neither.

I find that I only have time to update every once in a while instead of the once every week that I wanted to, so please, have patience. I happened to write part of this in a notebook at Music Camp and finished typing it up here.

No one's told me anything about not being able to answer reviews or not, but just to stay safe, thank you for reading my story, and I hope you like this next chapter.

* * *

Severus sighed as his eyes roamed from the pages before him once more. As much as he'd looked forward to taking one of his books and reading it in his own library, it wasn't enjoyable as he thought. Rather, a sort of loneliness was creeping in, but from where, he didn't know. At Hogwarts, wasn't he always by himself in the dungeons? Perhaps the lack of presence in the rest of the house was beginning to affect him, for, after all, there was always someone else in the castle, even if they weren't with him. Placing the book face down on the table beside him, he pushed himself off the comfortable armchair he had been sprawled on and stepped toward the large windows, gazing into the distance. 

Past his gardens, he could see the road that led to the front gate. Across the street, he knew there was a park, and he only had to turn the block to get to its entrance. Deciding to take the opportunity to go outdoors for a bit before the clouds completely blocked the sun (the day was starting to get cloudy), he picked up the book, marked the page with his finger, and marching downstairs, he left the estate for the presence of the muggles.

Inside the black gates, the forlorn feeling immediately left him. Frolicking children, strolling couples, and chattering families were around him, minding their own business, their voices blending with the twittering of the birds and the gentle lapping of the pond's water against the shore. Trees yawned overhead into an ongoing arch, the leaves creating dapples on the shaded path. Spotting an unoccupied bench under a large sycamore tree, Severus made for the seat, settling in comfortably. Taking in the view of the green lawns before him for a moment, he opened the book he had brought with him and lost himself in the text once more, barely aware of the buzzing voices around him.

He had just flipped the page when he felt someone stumble slightly against his leg, which he had crossed over the other in habit. Looking up quickly, he saw a young woman in front of him. He was about to glare at her, but before he could do anything, she began speaking, stuttering an apology.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see your foot—I didn't hurt you did I? I was reading, you see, and…"

Something in her voice stopped him. Why did it sound so…familiar? Her brown, fluffy hair, bright hazel eyes, the way she talked…it reminded him of someone. But who? Pushing those thoughts out of the way, he realized she was still babbling.

"…I'm really, really, sorry, really, I—"

"I'm fine." With those words, he returned to his book. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her confused look and then her back as she turned and hurried on her way. And he'd wanted to make a new life in this world. Nice start, Severus, he told himself bitterly. No one expects you to be cold to them, so why not loosed up a bit? Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, he turned his attention to the book on his lap, looking up every now and then as the incident stayed on his mind.

* * *

The air was beginning to cool as time stretched on in the park. Many were leaving, and the damp smell of rain tickled his nose as Severus shifted in the hard wooden bench once again. He looked up from the book in his lap, unable to concentrate. Thoughts of the familiar woman that he had bumped into, or, rather, that had bumped into him, lingered in his mind. After trying to squash down the image of her numerous times, they still popped up, working his brain as he tried to remember who she was. 

_I know I know who she is,_ he thought. _That voice…I could have sworn I've heard it before, and more times than I would have wanted to too, at that! _His brow furrowed in concentration.

After staring at the same page for a long while, not taking in any of the words on the page, he gave up on the task he had assigned himself. Since when had the task of reading become so difficult? It wasn't as if there was anyone bugging him but himself. Placing the now closed book beside him, he stretched, raising his arms above his head as he arched his back. With a sigh, half-composed of relief and half made up of restlessness, he decided to leave. Picking up the tome beside him, he, out of habit, dusted himself off before leaving, the puzzling thoughts still swirling in his mind.

His feet, he noticed later, had led him out of the park, but instead of heading in the direction of home, he found them carrying him down the street to one he vaguely remembered as lined with boutiques and small shops. As he crossed the street, cautiously looking both ways before hurrying down, curiosity took over, and he slowed to peer into the windows as he passed by.

One was a florist, every shelf filled with arranged poppies, daisies, and other flora in pots and vases, both in and out of season. A turning card rack by the bouquets of roses and late summer colors stood before the counter, which housed dried flowers behind in the display window. It was closed; no one was inside. Next door, young children swarmed in a confection shop, pointing at the various chocolates, gummies, and sugars in their respective jars and boxes as their parents hurried to keep up with them, the cashier person smiling all the while at the eager youngsters. Severus watched for a while, comparing a certain little boy to one of his more mischievous Slytherins, two whispering girls to the gossiping Hufflepuffs he always came across in the halls. The cowed first years he had lectured, the bubbly, eager third years as they made their way to Hogsmeade…the memories bought back waves of pain, and he stayed rooted to the spot, just gazing in the window. While it served to turn his mind to something else, a small part of him nagged that this was not what he had wanted to find here. He was moved out of his reverie by the chilly autumn wind sweeping the street, and pulling his thick coat over himself, he continued down the sidewalk, passing the occasional pedestrian.

From between the wisps and locks of raven hair that tickled his hair and blocked pieces of his vision, he saw that the next building was a real estate office, and the one next to that was a boutique, filled with antiques and small relics. Leaving the outlandish items with hardly a second glance, he continued on. The next store caught his attention, though. It was a modern culinary shop, filled wall to wall, floor to ceiling with pots and pans, silverware and glasses, plates and serving dishes, appliances and cookbooks. Pushing open the metal and glass doors, he entered the building, glanicng at the counter as he passed it on the way to the books against the left back wall. If he couldn't apply his skills to potions, why not use them for cooking?

The first one he picked up was a book on chocolate and desserts. Not many knew, but he had a sweet tooth for dark chocolate, and every once in a while, when he happened to pass Lupin in the halls, he would receive a chunk and would pop it in his mouth. As he flipped through pictures of crème brulees, chocolate mousses, and trifles, he scanned the recipes, noting what he needed. Maybe the candies Albus and Minerva had given him would come in useful after all.

Placing the book back at its place on the top of the stack, he flipped through several wine guides and books on grilled meats and salads before settling on the book on chocolate and one on wine and its accompaniments. What could he say? He was in Napa Valley.

After buying small sets of dinnerware and clever tools that would later on become useful in the kitchen, he left, carrying two large paper bags. He felt glad that he had exchanged all of his wizarding money for muggle money before leaving, things could get complicated if he hadn't. He reminded himself that he still needed to buy food, or else there was no need for the new dishes, and that there was still the garden to take care of. On those thoughts, he realized that the mug from that morning was still in the sink. He was going to have a hard time washing off the stains, he mused.

He noted that it was beginning to drizzle. The sky had no more patches of blue, and was covered completely by only a soft blanket of pastel-like grays. He didn't care much, for even without a hood, it seemed nicer out here than it would be in the lonely estate. Besides, there was still much to explore. Those thoughts were chased away, however, when the rain began pouring harder, and he stepped under a nearby overhang to survey the rest of his surroundings. He spotted a café across the street, nearly empty, but cozy enough. Deciding to take shelter there, and to take a sip of something warm while reading the book he hadn't been able to finish earlier, he glanced at both sides of him before dashing across the street, head down, bags bumping beside him with ceramic clangs. Clumsily, he made his way in, now dripping puddles on the floors.

"Sir?"

He looked up, startled. Seeing a waitress peering hesitantly from behind the threshold of what he supposed was the kitchen, he relaxed. He was about to answer when she hastily clattered over in thin high-heels, seating him and mumbling something about finding a towel. He placed his things gingerly on the tiled floor, and after hanging his coat on the chair back, he bent over to reach for one of the books he had.

He noticed that the ends of his hair were dripping, plump droplets rolling slowly from the damp strands. Straightening up, he was about to reach for a napkin when the waitress returned, a fluffy towel that looked as if it had been used to dry dishes in her hand. It looked clean enough though, and since it would be much more effective than paper napkins, he took it gratefully.

Moments later, comfortably settled with a pastry and a Styrofoam cup on the table before him, he leaned back, book opened in front of him as his mind drifted away.

* * *

Severus balanced his days between working in the garden (when it wasn't raining or too damp), reading in the library, cleaning and taking walks by the shops as he slowly acclaimed new furniture. The thought of driving a car had never appealed to him, and after having his items delivered by the deliverymen and having them placed at the right spot under the combined effort of two men, he would lounge around, doing nothing. However, he did have a daily habit of going to the park for the comfort of civilization, and he made a mental note to do that later. Today, after a long morning of sleeping in and shifting around the library, he decided to look through the chest in the small corner room, one he hadn't touched for years. 

The top creaked open, heavy on the rusting hinges. As he let the slab of wood fall against the wall, he leaned back on his heels, staring at a small glinting piece laying gently on top of the velvet that covered his belongings.

It was the time turner, the glass crushed, but all of the pieces there. The magical sands had been emptied out, and all that was left was the battered metal and glass shell. Picking it up between his fore finger and his thumb, he let it rest in his palm, letting the light play on the embossed letters on the side. Hermione J. Granger. He had forgotten he had picked it up before the fighting had started. Someone must have emptied it out of his robe and thought it was his, without a second glance at the faint name. Placing it down on the coverlet, he picked up the velvet, time turner still nestled in the folds, and placed it on a nearby stool, turning back to the things inside.

On one side, books were stacked, notebooks, storybooks, two old journals, a sketching diary. He flipped through them, remembering the beginnings of stories he had written and never finished, the pictures he had traced out of wonder as he listened to the familiar stories, the thoughts and memories he had painstakingly recorded everyday, the pencil lines that made up objects in the halfway filled sketchbook. Moving those to a pile on the floor, he let his hand linger on the slightly dusty covers before reaching in again.

One of the treasures was a small jar, filled with paper stars his cousins had made for him as a birthday present, tied around the neck with three of their stained hair ribbons. Even if the gift had seemed feminine, he had always admired the perfect little folds of paper. Next was a hair ribbon he had used on special occasions, with a cloak clasp with the Snape crest embossed on the silver metal dangling from it. Gently lifting the hair ribbon, he let the pendant slide off, trying to tie his still rather short hair up with it. As the silken folds kept sliding out of place, he gave up. _I don't even know why I ever wore a hair ribbon…I must have been really old-fashioned. I should really consider cutting my hair sometime… _He placed the small cut of cloth nearby, close to the pile of items beside him. Beneath the objects he had just taken out were stacks of pictures, frozen without the magic of the wizarding world inside them anymore. He vividly remembered the large family gatherings, the many summer parties, the uncountable Christmas balls, his lessons with the strict tutor, the nights away from parents and home, the first forlorn day at Hogwarts…placing the pictures back inside the chest, he stood up, closing the cover with a snap as he blinked back tears. Leaving the books and the time turner where they lay, he stood still for a moment before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him. He had hoped to lock the memories in there as well, but they continued following him down the hall, bringing unbidden tears to spring in his eyes, blurring his vision.

Deciding to leave for some fresh air, and hoping to clear his head, he grabbed the book lying on the table where he had left it in the entrance room. He was about to reach for his coat when he peered outside, and realizing that it was quite warm, he left it hanging on its hook, pocketing the keys before descending the front steps. Now was as good a time as any to take the walk to the bench under the shade, so he turned the block and approached the front gates.

The leaves had turned scarlet, ochre, and golden, falling to carpet the park grasses with bright colors. He had seen the same woman there everyday, hurrying back from somewhere and taking a shortcut through the park in front of the bench he always occupied. He would steal glances at her behind his book, but he could never figure out why she seemed so familiar. She, of course, just passed by at her hasty pace, not showing any signs of having seen her before. As he sat at the bench again, he didn't realize she was staring at him rather curiously until he flipped the page.

He looked up in annoyance. "Excuse me. May I help you with something?"

A flustered look appeared on her face as she realized he had noticed her staring. "I'm sorry, I just noticed the book you were reading and couldn't help wondering if you were enjoying it too…I just finished it two days ago." She offered a small smile.

"Oh." He flipped over to the cover of the book, looking at the words Jane Eyre printed on the front. "I'm just rereading it. I've read the book a few times before."

"It's one of my favorite books. Doesn't it seem to relate to the author's life a lot?"

_So she reads the prefaces too. Hmm. Not too ignorant to the details._ He nodded. "Her life was a great inspiration for the book…Charlotte Bronte, I mean. A pity her life wasn't longer."

The woman agreed, then blinked. "Oh! I'm sorry, you don't know who I am, do you? My name's Jane, like hers." She pointed to the book and gave a wry smile at the coincidence.

"My name's…Severus." He offered his hand, hoping that she wouldn't notice the strange name, but she remarked upon it anyway.

"Severus….I've never heard the name before. I like it though, it's very unique. Unlike mine."

"Just because it's common it doesn't make it bad."

"I happen to wish…" She trailed off, not finishing her sentence.

He wasn't concentrating on that, though. Unlike her, who had never heard his name, he had seen her name time and time again. He nearly dismissed it as seeing it too many times in the book he had been reading before bringing it back. He studied her face for a moment, the embarrassed look on her features reminding him of someone…

With a sudden jolt, he realized who she was. He'd seen the name in his grade book, right in the middle, never a red mark in the boxes by her name, written on every assignment in neat, trim letters... _They found her…she was hit with a memory curse…hospitalized in St. Mungo's…released into the muggle world…_Out of the jumbled thoughts in his head, he pulled out a name.

Hermione Granger!

* * *

I'm sorry I haven't been able to update a lot (make that at all) but marching band and honors classes have kept me busy. I'm hoping to finish my edit of my other chapters and to finish writing another chapter I'm adding in between, but I'll have to see. Hopefully, I'll get somewhere. Thank you for reading this, and please review! 


	4. Old Memories

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters except the occasional waiter mentioned, and everything else belongs to either JK Rowling or the person who invented it.

Thank you to those of you who read my authors notes, I personally never really do, and because I'm guilty of it, I can understand your impatience to get to the story too. Well, just so won't have to read anymore than you have to, here's the story:

* * *

Severus froze on the bench he was sitting on, shock evident on his features. Vaguely, he saw through the images flying around his brain the uncomfortable look she was giving him,so he recomposed himself. He was about to try and say something, but nothing came to mind. He stared at the book in his hands, seeing her name staring back at him.

"I'm sorry…does my name remind you of someone?"

He looked up at her soft, hesitant voice. Forcing an uncomfortable smile for her sake, he shook his head. He didn't say anything else, though. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the calls of birds, the chattering of passerby and the stirring of the grass.

"Well…I'll just be leaving, then. I have some papers I need to do…" Offering a smile in return, she hurried off, leaving him to his own thoughts.

The book stayed, forgotten, in his lap. So this was where she had settled. Despite her evident memory loss, she seemed the same, shy and bookish. He could tell by the amount of books she carried in her arms everyday. Why she didn't get a larger bag than the small purse she carried on her shoulder was a mystery to him. Her hair was still the bushy, long honey colored mass it had always been, if not thicker and heavier, and without the memories that seemed to weigh down on the rest of the ex-wizarding population, her eyes were bright, like the first time she had entered his classroom. The glint in her eyes still showed her Gryffindor bravery, and he found it oddly comforting that she had not changed like most youths did after they grew up.

"Jane…" he muttered, wondering how in the world she had remembered her middle name and not her first. Probably coincidence, he dismissed it. What about her last name? Did she remember that? He wondered how she could still remain so bright and carefree even without any memories of her past. Or had others replaced them? Ones of a normal, muggle childhood and no trace of magic whatsoever? How he wished he still could use magic, to find just a glimpse of what she was thinking. But when he had left for the muggle world, all the strings of magic that had once bound him, no matter how thick or thin, had been broken, cut, and had then dissapated into wisps of the past. Feeling the gaping hole in his heart, now empty from the lack of magic running through his veins, he gritted his teeth in pain. Severus wondered, as he had many times, whether it could have been any worse if he had stayed at Hogwarts, seeing the blank faces of those who had been wounded, researching for them endlessly. At least the magic he had known all his life would be there to guide him. But since muggles had survived generations without magic in themselves, he was determined to live without it also.

Leaving the park resolutely, he decided to vent out his pain and confusion on the hard, rocky soil in the corner of his backyard. Dressed now in loose pants and a shirt that let the small puffs of wind blow in, he dug at the patch where some kind of grove had once grown. Remains of roots and trunks dotted the dry brown dirt, and while he shoveled with a large metal spade to loosen the clumps, he began arguing with himself.

_Why are you digging up a patch of soil anyway? You're not going to find any answers._

"At least I'll be—able—to—grow something here when spring—comes—along!" he grunted as he encountered a particularly stubborn bit of ground.

_Right…you're just mad at youself._

"And why would I be mad? I'd say angry fits the description better."

_You seem rabid enough, poking holes into the ground that has done nothing but support you…_

"Well, if you know why I'm out here, then don't ask me! It seems you have all the right answers anyway!"

_It's only to help you. You have all the answers too, but you have to find them somehow, right? Other than digging in the ground for it? It's much too valuable to hide there._

"I'm not looking for answers right now!" He was now desperate to shut the voice up.

_Then why does your mind seem so busy? It's like a thousand bats are flitting around in there._

"How would you know?"

The voice got a little annoyed. _Because I looked inside, _it said sarcastically.

"Oh really?"

_I _live_ there!_

"Then stay in there and do me a favor by getting those bats out of my head!"

He only got angrier with himself as he realized how foolish he sounded talking to himself. Leaning on the spade moodily, he stared at a beetle climbing over his shoe.

_Maybe that voice was right,_ he thought to himself, albeit reluctantly. _Maybe I just need to find out why I feel like this. I know I wish I had my magic back, but why? For the convenience? To feel whole again? If a part of me wants to fit in, then why do I yearn for something so different? How come life can't be simple, like…like…I don't know! Life never is simple anymore, it never was! _In his anger, he kicked the dirt with his toe, the same foot that had the beetle wandering on it, and sent it flying, dust coming up to surround his feet. Feeling sorry for it, after all, why would a small bug deserve to be thrown into the air? He picked it up, pinching it gently between his index finger and thumb. Dropping it lightly in his palm, he felt the spindly legs of the creature explore the callused terrain, turning his hand over as the beetle began to climb over his knuckles.

The shiny armor around the bug, a kind of bluish-purple, reminded him of something Albus had said to him long ago, when Severus was still teaching his first year at Hogwarts.

* * *

"They're only students, you don't have to be so cold to them."

"But…but…"

"But what?"

"I watch some of them, my students, the Slytherins, picking on the other students, making fun of them, leaving them out…it only reminds me of the times I was a student here."

"And it helps to be one of those bullies as well?"

Pause.

"Maybe, Severus, you should let down your façade a bit, let them see the real you."

"Maybe. I doubt they would care, some of them."

"You've drawn yourself inside so tightly, it's like you have armor built around you with mirrors as plates, and whatever anyone does, you have to do to them also. No one can get in, nothing gets out."

"So? I like to keep myself protected."

"And that's going to protect you from everything? A beetle has armor, it doesn't protect it from being killed in your potions, does it?"

"What's your point?"

"Lions can be kind, yet when people see their great teeth, they run. Hawks can be ferocious, yet when their large wings spread, people stare in awe. And when people see a person who is true, honest, and is himself, they don't cower, they don't get fooled by their fake masks, they want to get to know them. Which one do you want to be like?"

* * *

As the memories came flooding back, he stared at the little bug, now sitting on the tip of one finger. What similarity did it have to him? Sighing, he placed it back on the ground, watching it hurry away across the dirt and under one of the fallen leaves of a magnolia tree nearby.

The leaves of the tree hung from semi-barren branches, littered with fallen leafs damp with condensation. But although such a scene may have looked lifeless had it been cloudy or overcast, it seemed rather crisp as the bright blue sky stretched above. Bending over to pick up a perfectly formed maple leaf near the fence, he leaned his tool on a corner before twirling the stem in his hands, watching the reds and browns swirl together in the movement. Letting the leaf twirl to the ground to land on a small puddle in the dip by the roots of a Japanese maple, he strolled past, oddly calm, all previous thoughts pushed to the back of his mind.

Severus blinked as a drop of water hit his eye from a branch overhead. Shaking his head, he looked down to see his reflection in a clear pool of water nestled in a large rock at his feet. He could see every clear outline, of his straight, fine hair, now long enough to touch his shoulder blades, of his angled nose and cheekbones, of his dark, glittering eyes. He studied them for a moment, his eyes. It was a wonder that they still seemed to glitter at a time like this, so maliciously. He hadn't thought of anything but Jane's name the time. Still peering in, he watched the reflection of a sparrow flutter behind his head to land on a nearby branch, almost out of his view. Slowly angling his head so that the bird was still caught in the reflection in the water, he stared back at its black beady eyes. Funny, it seemed to be looking right at him. He heard it chirp a few times, it cocked its head. It seemed to stay in that position forever, and just as Severus's neck began to cramp, it fluttered away, suddenly disappearing from his line of sight as he raised his head to glance at the sky. Rubbing his neck, he turned back toward the place he had left his shovel, walking back to the house.

* * *

Everyday, he would be sitting on the bench when Jane came by. Sometimes, he'd be too absorbed in his new reading material to notice her until she'd clear her throat a bit too loudly. Some would glance at her, then dismiss her, and he'd laugh at the faces she made at them. On others, he'd be taking a break or letting his mind wander, and in hope of someone to socialize with, he'd spot her first.

He learned she was a university student, hoping to become a freelance author. She'd asked him to edit one of the pieces, and finding it tactful, she would let him read most of the pieces she wrote before submitting them to the press. They were all short, not much, but Severus could see little bits of the past she had forgotten in them. Like the lake in her second piece, which description seemed almost identical to the lake in Hogwarts. Or the schoolmaster that seemed so much like him, he had to keep from laughing aloud. She had asked him what was so funny, sitting beside him and seeing his shoulders shake, but he had just shook his head and continued reading on. Or, like now, when they were relaxing on the grass.

"What is it?"

"What?" He pretended to be busy peering at the papers in his hands.

"You don't fool me, Severus. What were you laughing at?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes, really!"

"Oh, let me see that." Snatching the papers out of his hand when he was least suspecting it, she glanced at the comments and edits along the margins. "What's wrong with Lemon Drops?" She frowned at the words littering the page.

"They just remind me of someone…"

"Who?" She immediately prompted.

"Just some senile old man I knew who couldn't ever have enough of them…" _Albus Dumbledore_, he thought wryly. _Yes, definitely you._

"And what's wrong with liking lemon drops? I happen to like them, you know."

He didn't reply, but in return he grabbed the papers from her hands and continued reading, raising and lowering the papers as she tried to grab them. Smiling, he glimpsed the words 'long, flowing white beard' before bursting out in laughter.

Severus had ended up giving her every last lemon drop in the bag of candy that Albus and Minerva had given him.

It was also apparent that she had no idea of her past at all. She had told him once that the doctors had diagnosed her with a case of amnesia, never improving, never worsening. When she had started confiding her worse fears to him, that those who knew her might have hated her so much that they never thought to come back and visit, he wished he could tell her the whole story, how she had been a brilliant witch, and that she had spent her days at Hogwarts with that Potter and Weasley and lost her memories in the final battle. When she turned to him rather suddenly and asked him if she had known him and if he was hiding himself from her, he didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought she would ever think of anything like that. Of course, she had known him, and always hated him. He was afraid that if he told her, she would hate him for the way he had treated her, hid her past from her, and he'd be left friendless again. When he lied and reassured her that he hadn't, and that he was sorry for her condition, he was relieved that she left the subject alone. However, the feeling of selfishness remained.

But what he noticed most of all was what she did to him. She was like…a drop of medication everyday, he supposed. He remembered the feeling of laughter running through him for the first time, unable to stop smiling for a reason completely unknown to himself. His cheeks hadn't been through such an exertion since a time when he could remember. The trees and their colored leaves, the crisp blue sky or swirling murky clouds…they all had meaning now. Nothing seemed blank, or bland (besides a day spent too long alone) as it had before, now filled with expectations and a reason to make the most out of life. Every now and then, when she wasn't looking, he'd steal a glance at her, smiling at her before turning back to what he'd been doing. She'd caught him once and thought he had had too much chocolate that morning. Who said sugar wasn't a good thing?

Halloween had passed (he didn't celebrate it because of the mockery of witches and wizards and the fact that no child would wind his way through the now barren grove of trees to get candy from a vampire) and Thanksgiving was bringing a chill with it. Jane, or Hermione, as he still thought of her, was out with her friends to Philadelphia, celebrating the holiday, and wouldn't be back until the day after tomorrow. Severus was currently curled up in his favorite armchair in the library after tossing and turning in bed for three hours, the fireplace radiating heat and light and the stars shining through the window, beyond the open curtains.

Gazing at the twinkling lights, he pushed himself up, leaving the book on the chair as he walked up to the glass panels. Leaning against the clean, slightly musty curtains, he watched his breath fog the glass for a while before staring at the silhouettes of the garden. The branches of the trees, now barren, stabbed the sky, an occasional leaf dangling from the branches. Above, the moon was high, large and white. The glow cast a strange sort of aura, and provoked the loneliness beginning to well up inside. He talked to one of the waiters at the café sometimes to pass the time, and twice he had received news from Albus and Minerva, but other else, he was living a solitary life.

He had told the two about seeing Hermione here in Napa Valley. They seemed a bit surprised at the coincidence, and would ask after her every now and then. Most of the news was the same. They were still working on antidotes and counter-spells, and hadn't made much of a break-through yet. Not wanting to dwell on such serious matters, he let his mind wander to something else.

Spotting a parcel of sweets on the table beside him out of the corner of his eyes, the corner of his lips quirked into a smile. He had used the chocolates for desserts, and left the rest in the bag, and once, when Minerva asked him how he was faring with his sweet tooth, he told her about the chocolates and the miserably long lives that the other candies had to bear. Not a day later, another parcel of candies came, but this time, the whole thing consisted of chocolate, along with a card from Albus giving Severus the idea to use the other candies he hadn't used for a gingerbread house for Hermione on Christmas. So he had stored them away, deciding to follow the ex-headmaster's idea, and left the newer bag out. He reached for it now, unwrapping a bite-sized bar of white chocolate. It wasn't his particular favorite, but it was still nice to eat every now and then. Popping it in his mouth, he placed the wrapper in his pocket, hoping he'd remember to throw it away before the ants got to it.

Settling back down on the chair, he'd scarcely read ten pages before he fell asleep, the fire reflecting off a solitary ant climbing around the outside of his pocket, hoping to find some sugar on the sleeping man.

* * *

Okay, this is a short chapter (they're all about this length, unfortunately), and it may be a bit rough from some attempts to add bits from discarded pieces in. I hope you still enjoy it, though! 


	5. Acquaintances I

Disclamer: I don't own Napa Valley, the characters, or the recipes. They are real, if not too brief and missing a few ingredients. Also, Folger's and Peerless aren't mine. The coffee brands belong to the said companies.

The chapter seems to me like I only wrote it to feel in the space, but I don't regret it.

Thank you for taking the time to enjoy this! I hope it's worthwhile!

* * *

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

The young woman beside him sighed exasperatedly. "Can't you get your nose out of that book for five minutes? Come on, it's too nice to just sit out here and read…when you invited me out here this morning, I thought we might be doing something else than just sitting here, _reading_."

He raised his eyebrow at Jane, his head still stuck in the book. "You, an aspiring author, telling me not to read?"

"Yes! Come on, let's have a picnic or something."

"What?" he snorted, finally dropping the book into his lap. "We're already at the park, you want to go buy food and then come back?"

"Well…" she started a bit hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Maybe we could go somewhere else, you know, quieter?" She gestured to the squalling children, flapping geese, laughing men, and squealing babies, hoping to get her point across.

"All right, all right." As Jane's face lit up, he stood up, tucking the book under his arm. "What time is it?"

"Mmm…about a quarter to twelve."

He glanced at the watch on her wrist, seeing that it was indeed almost noon. Realizing how hungry he was, he decided he was thankful she had been stubborn enough to take his interest away from the book.

"Where?"

She looked confused, "Where what?"

"Where do you want to get the food?"

"How about homemade? Something light?'

He groaned. "It's almost twelve…you still want to make a lunch? I thought you were hungry?"

"I am, just maybe not as much as you."

"Fine, fine. My house, then? My kitchen is rather full." He suggested rather grudgingly.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad. Why the grumpy face?"

"Nevermind. Come on, this way."

She followed him out of the park, and when they arrived at the estate, he heard her gasp. Turning slightly, he saw a look of wonder on her face.

"You…you live here?" She continued staring at the grove of trees behind the gates, the shadows dappling the path that led to the gardens behind.

"Yes."

"I've always passed by this house and wandered who lived here. The gardens look so beautiful." Her voice was merely more than a whisper.

"Perhaps you should come inside, then." Putting a key in the small lock at the gate, he pushed it open, the hinges protesting quietly. She continued ahead of him, touching a low branch, a soft petal, and the carvings of a fountain. He watched her from a small distance, letting her explore the garden on her own. He was busy watching a butterfly waft by when the silence was broken by a small voice.

"Severus?"

He turned to see her studying something in her hand. Walking up to her, he peered over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"Look."

It was the beetle he had found half a year ago, when it had still been autumn, when he had just met her. It's shell, dark and reflecting the colors around it, was glistening with small droplets of water. It crawled slowly between her hands, legs twitching every now and then.

"I found it floundering in the fountain." She said it quietly, as if not to scare the small creature in her hands.

As she lowered her hands to a large leaf, Severus contemplated the small bug, now making its way to the stem of the plant. It must have made a permanent residence here, living through the rest of autumn and winter until spring arrived.

"Can we eat out here?"

He lifted his eyes to study her face, eager, like a child's. He couldn't help but smile. "Of course, but we must have something to eat first, don't we?"

She laughed, the pealing sounds riding on the breeze. His smile broadening, he opened the front door and led her to the kitchen, watching her eyes taking in everything from the corner of his eye.

"Let's see. I have some greens I washed this morning that I picked yesterday," his voice came out slightly muffled from inside the fridge. "We can use them for a salad, we just have to make a dressing for them. Hmm…"

He continued to look through the contents, bumping his head as he tried to take out a rather large platter. Jane took it from him, placing it on the counter as she watched him take out a few bunches of herbs and a fresh lemon. "Could you go to the pantry right there and grab some honey? There's olive oil right there on the counter too."

"Okay." He heard the sound of the faucet running, followed by footsteps and a thud of a full honey bottle and a small clang as she took the glass bottle of olive oil from its metal holder. "Oh, these are so pretty! Do you have any bread? It would taste wonderful with this oil and balsamic vinegar."

He turned to see her admiring the uniquely shaped glassware. "As a matter of fact, I do. I bought it this morning, early, when it's just baked. The loaf is sitting on the top of the rack over there. We can toast it in the oven, and make a couple sandwiches out of it too."

She didn't reply, but instead started hunting for the breadboard, knife, and oven mitt. Pressing buttons until she got the oven to preheat, she made sure it was empty, then began slicing the bread into careful, even slices, leaving half of the loaf uncut. Placing the cut pieces onto a baking sheet, she slid the metal tray inside, snapped the door shut, and proceeded placing the unused portion away. She turned. "What about the dressing?"

Glancing at the greens that sat in its bowl on the counter, he looked back at her, smile playing on his lips. "I suppose that you love cooking as much as I do?'

"Correction. More than you do."

He laughed. "For the dressing, you can start by pouring in some of the honey and olive oil, and adding some of the red whine vinegar, lemon juice and salt, which is in there." He gestured toward the cupboard. "Oh, and the herbs right there can be added in as well. Just tone it down to your taste."

While she began to make the salad dressing, Severus took out slices of grilled eggplant and mushrooms and chunks of fresh cheese. Placing them on the counter, he turned on the oven light, checked the progress of the nearly golden bread, and decided to take out some of the dinnerware they'd need. Reaching for the plates below, he placed them beside the napkins and forks already there.

"What do you want to drink?"

"That can be your decision. What do you have?" She asked as she chopped the herbs to small pieces.

"I suppose some lemon water would do fine? And save some of those herbs for me, I'd like to add them to the sandwiches."

"Sounds refreshing. Here, your herbs are on the cutting board." She dropped the rest of them in the beaker of dressing just as the oven timer went off. Swirling the dressing in one hand, she opened the door with the other, glancing inside. "The bread looks ready."

Gently removing the tray with an oven mitt, he placed the hot baking sheet on the stove. Taking four slices, he moved them gingerly and quickly to the cutting board, sprinkling one side with the herbs. Taking the eggplant and mushrooms, he placed them on two of the slices, while cheese was applied to the other two. He grabbed some of the purple and green leaflets from the salad bowl and placed them inside as well.

"Now…" He glanced at the table. "Everything's done except for the oil and vinegar, which need to be packed up, and the water."

"I can put the water in the canister I saw earlier, and slice the lemons. I don't really know where to put the dressings."

He nodded in assent, storing them into small, makeshift bowls with covers. She put the lid on the canister just as she finished adding the sliced lemons and ice, then turned to him. "We just have to put this in something and then we can eat."

"Let me go grab the basket…" Emerging from the very back of the small room with a large basket dangling off one arm, he saw her giggling behind her hand. "What?"

"You have an actual basket?"

He shrugged. "It does come in useful, doesn't it?"

After strolling about for a while, they choose a shady, grassy spot in the back. They had considered the pagoda, but thinking that this place seemed perfect, they settled amongst the trees and flowers, the lawn just big enough for them and the basket. Placing the food on the plates, they picked up the sandwiches and began eating.

"Mmm…what kind of mushrooms are these?"

"Sliced portabellas grilled yesterday. Same for the eggplants."

"Leftovers?"

"No, I saved them for you."

She watched him skeptically, his lips only twitched. Picking off a leaf sticking out in the corner of the salad, she inspected it. "You used the salad in this too, right?"

"Mmhmm…very observant of you," he replied around his mouthful of salad. "The dressing is nice. You added just enough honey and lemon to make it just tangy, not too sweet or sour."

"Can't stand it any other way."

"But you're sitting now, aren't you?"

They both laughed, their conversation lasting well after their light meal.

* * *

After she'd been shown the gardens, groves, and the vegetable patch, not to mention the small orchard, herb garden, and the naturalistic pond in the back, she left, saying that it was late and that she would most certainly come and visit again, to help with the gardening, at the least. How could he refuse? The gardens most certainly took up a lot of his time.

Walking up the stairs, he was about to go to his bedroom and retrieve something when he found his interest drawn to the corner room again. Giving in, he walked inside, glancing at the books still lying on the floor. He bent down to put them away when the remaining sunlight glanced off the glass of the time turner on top, once again reminding him of what had happened to Jane, Hermione. Gently lifting them up, he placed the objects just as lightly inside, reluctantly closing the lid before leaving for his bedroom.

* * *

Severus looked up worriedly. He was sure it was past 2:00, the time Jane usually met him there at the bench. Usually, he'd be too engrossed in his book to notice the time, but as the chapter he was in was particularly uninteresting, he'd looked forward to seeing her, only beginning to worry when he realized that she was late. _Of course_, he reassured himself. _She was just delayed by one of her classes or something. In a minute, she'll turn up, apologizing and making excuses about this or that…_

But this time, he doubted it. Something felt wrong. Checking about one more time, he frowned, apprehension growing in his chest. Standing up quickly, he hurried to a young man, a little older than he was, and stopped him.

"Excuse me…sorry for being so rude, but would you tell me what time it is?" He gestured toward the band of metal around his wrist.

The man flashed a quick, rather startled smile before bringing his wrist up to his eyes. "About…" he squinted, "half past two."

"Thank you," Severus muttered distractedly, not even noticing the man walk away. Where was she? Feeling restless, he decided to leave, hoping it was just an appointment keeping her and not something more serious.

_Stop worrying, Severus_, he scolded himself._ She's probably at an appointment she forgot to tell you she had, or…or at class meeting that just turned up! _

_But anything could have happened…_

_Stop being so pessimistic! For goodness sakes, no one can always be punctual, not even you!_

Deciding not to rely on his unpleasant thoughts any longer, he resolutely opened the door to his house (he had unknowingly unlocked the gates in his clouded mood) and marched to the kitchen, where he set out a mug, a coffee maker, and two jars of Folger's and Peerless coffee. Setting the water and measuring the coffee rather roughly, he sat down on a stool, moodily watching the dark liquid drip, the thin tapping the only sounds in the room. He stared for a long time, no thoughts, and just a kind of fuzzy restlessness running through his head.

Realizing the noises emanating from the coffeepot had stopped a while ago, he sighed, feeling as old and tired as if he were once again a middle aged man. Maybe he was still the man he used to be. Lately, it seemed as if it were only appearances that had been altered, and nothing else. Every now and then, he'd wonder what would happen if the spell broke, and he was suddenly himself again. Or what would happen if Jane were to gain her memory back, remembering the Hermione side of herself and seperating herself from him? Sighing heavily again, he poured the contents into the mug, adding no milk, no sugar. Cradling the cup as if it was a flame in the middle of winter, he turned so that the counter was at his back, then brought up his legs so that the heels rested on the seat of the stool. It was a cramped fitting, but he couldn't care less that he was sliding off the chair or that the counter top was digging into his back. Staring out the window, he watched the leaves ripple and shake as the wind passed through them, making them dance.

Taking a sip, he closed his eyes, letting the comfort of the coffee and his home dispel any disturbing thoughts that had been floating in his head, a blank numbness washing enticingly over his mind.

* * *

For those of you who have me on your alert list, perhaps I could get an idea of how much interest my story's giving you? Given the growing number of unsigned reviews (which I don't mind, keep them coming) and the decreasing amount of familiar ones, I'd appreciate a short note on how well it's capturing your attention, and any details I assume you all know but are impossible for you to grasp…thank you. 


	6. Acquaintances II

To all my reviewers, thank you for all of your encouragement! Because of the resetting that went on with the servers (or so I know), I have no clue what my hit number is right now. It says chapter three has 2 hits while chapter one and four have like 8 or 6…strange, isn't it?

For the disclaimer, I won't repeat the same old stuff, but just to say, the cat is based off a rather friendly one that was sitting on the covering of our deck and came up to me, spotted the guinea pigs, and scared the hell out of my mom. I just had to add it, and when I told my mom, she made a face…but it'll relate well to the rest of the story.

No more long author's notes…now to the story:

Casting another look at the barren, pearly skies, Severus sighed. It seemed too quiet to sit out here and read. Besides, the chair he was sitting on was still wet from the morning's rain, not to mention that it would probably get wetter as it was sprinkling again. Hunching over more in an effort to keep the text dry, he glanced down the path, worry gnawing at him each time the empty road greeted him.

It was still early, but he was still concerned about Jane. It wasn't like her to be late to anything, especially to miss an appointment. Since yesterday afternoon, he had received no word from her of her whereabouts.

His head snapped up as he heard the hollow sound of shoes crunching on gravel. Seeing Jane, he got up, feeling relief drain through his body.

"Where were you yesterday?" The words came out harsh, biting.

He could tell by her shocked expression that she was surprised, but he didn't feel any guilt for it. "I—I was just down with a bit of cold yesterday," she stammered out, unsure of his reaction. A frown covered her expression. "What is it?"

Turning, partially to hide his embarrassment, and to pick up the book that was beginning to get a bit soggy on the edges, he shook his head. "Nothing. I just thought…" He trailed off. "Never mind."

She sighed. "Never mind what?"

"Nothing."

Another sigh.

"Come on. I can tell something's bugging you."

He looked at her this time, studying her face, then began walking down the path. "I thought something had happened to you, but nothing did, so there's nothing to worry about."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

He gritted his teeth in annoyance when he heard her boots squelching behind him. He stayed quiet.

"Severus!"

He turned, then paused. "I'm sorry." His voice softened. "It's beginning to rain again. Perhaps you'd like to get inside?"

Her face visibly brightened. "How about the corner café? We could warm ourselves up there as well."

He nodded, agreeing. "Okay, but let's hurry, we'll be drowned if we don't leave soon."

She laughed, following him across the slippery street.

* * *

"Jane!" He was exasperated. For some strange reason, she seemed…out of it.

She looked up, startled. "Oh! I'm sorry. What was it?" She tried to look attentive but failed. He sighed, then placed his cup back on the saucer, leaning back into the cushions of the booth.

"What's bothering you?" He looked at her, straight in the eyes.

She flushed. "Nothing, it must be the cold…"

"You shouldn't have been outside then." Pause. "Are you sure?"

"Yes…but I'm fine." She wouldn't meet his eyes, he could tell she was lying.

"Tell me the truth. What's bothering you?" he repeated. Leaning forward, his gaze intensified, causing her to squirm slightly in her seat.

"I—" She stopped, then sighed, looking away. She continued, in a small voice, almost a whisper. "Remember what I told you about my amnesia?"

He frowned, straightening at the statement. "Yes…" he replied, carefully.

"Yesterday…well, that is to say, I—" She took a deep breath, then continued speaking, looking only at the dark liquid swirling in her cup. "I was about to leave for class, and already running late, when I began to feel dizzy…I'd already had headaches since I'd woken up, but had decided to ignore them. Everything went blurry for a moment, and then I don't remember much after that…"

She stopped talking, still staring at the cup. "Then…?" he prompted gently.

"I woke up at the hospital. Something about the liquid in my brain…I—I don't know. It was my amnesia, the case had gotten even worse. That's why I didn't come yesterday, I was stuck in there. They let me out this morning, but I have a check-up tomorrow."

He was silent, contemplating what she had just told him. It had been brief, but horrible just the same. He watched her sip at the rapidly cooling coffee, thinking over her words. _That's impossible! She was one of Hogwart's best minds! How can some small memory curse have eaten her so much of her? Her memories first…then what? Her ability to coordinate? What if she becomes motor- impaired? She was supposed to grow up, become some smart witch that worked along her fame and glory friends, basking in the praise of all her employers, not reduced to a girl who can't remember anything about her past! Her goal was supposed to be a hope that she could master her NEWTs, not her past! This is all wrong! I'm supposed to be in the dungeons, scaring all hell out of dunderheads in Potions…and hoping to survive another day of the infamous Know-It-All! Potter, Weasley, Miss Granger…no, Jane! Jane! If I'd never left, would things be different? What if I could just awaken and find that this all was a dream, that everything was back to what it had been?_ He clenched his teeth, frustrated. Painful memories came to the surface of his mind: the Dark Mark, the time-turner… He looked up to see her thinking too. Slowly, he released the tension in his jaw.

"Jane…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. She looked up at him, her eyes searching desperately for a bit of hope, anything. "I promise, if things get worse, that I'll be here to help you, okay?"

"But—but…what if I don't remember you? Or, or—"

"Shh." He cut her off, wondering when he had become so attached to the young Gryffindor. "It'll all work out."

"Do you promise? That you'll be here? That it'll all work out?"

He hesitated slightly, then, "I promise."

* * *

He was in that room again, the corner one upstairs. He seemed to come to it so often, but it wasn't as if he wanted to go in. Something always…drew him in there, like invisible threads from a puppeteer's hand, as if was the puppet of fate. As of now, he was kneeling on the floor, ignoring the fact that the rug two inches from his legs would relieve his knees, or that they were even hurting at all. He was staring at the time-turner again, watching the pieces with grim intensity. No light came in from the window being pounded with rain, or the lamp hanging from the ceiling. Tracing the edges, he realized that staring at it wasn't going to do anything for him, and pushing himself up on his protesting legs, he walked stiffly to the library, collapsing into one of the armchairs.

Closing his eyes, the time-turner clenched lightly in his fist hanging limply at his side, he took a few deep breaths. Bringing up the small metal and glass device, he cracked open an eyelid, peering at it. It was in shadows, barely distinguishable from its nest in his fingers. Placing it gently on the table beside him, he busied himself with starting up the fire, not caring that he should be cooking dinner right now. It didn't matter to him, a few missed meals; he wasn't an easy victim of stomach ulcers, and, besides, hadn't he always skipped meals when he felt he was too busy for something so small?

The dim light of the small fire cast shadows in the corner of the room, and he settled in his chair comfortably, just looking at it, as if he was trying to get the broken glass, the dented metal, to speak. It wasn't as if he didn't expect it to neither. It was a magical object once, so why not? He surmised that he wouldn't have been the least bit shocked even if it had.

_What a wish, hoping that a scrap of metal will talk to you,_ he thought scornfully. _Even if there was any magic in it, any grain of sand, why would it still be there after all your handling? Look at all the fingerprints on it!_

It was then that he spotted something he had never seen before. In the small disk of metal that had made up the base, where the sand would have sat, there was a small carving. A small spiral engraved into the base. He was about to touch it when he sighed and dropped his hand back on the armrest. Of course, what was he thinking? It was only to keep the sand moving in one direction when it fell through the glass. A general piece in any sand timer, and nothing more.

Placing it on the table, he closed his eyes, not noticing the small blue glow it gave momentarily before becoming what it had before, still and lifeless.

* * *

"What's this, Severus? What about this one, is it a kind of Daffodil?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's a Narcissus. The other is a tiger lily bud."

They were both in the garden, Jane and Severus, tending to the plants in their spare time. It was a bit puzzling to find out that with as much thirst as the girl had for knowledge, she knew almost nothing of the basic plants. She knew near to nothing about even a poppy, questioning him about the sunlight and watering. Oh well, he thought. At least she still wants to learn. That's one thing that has definitely not changed about Hermione Granger. And the fact that she's still so overly enthusiastic about everything…

"Oh! Look!"

He raised his eyes to see himself face to face with a tawny, thin cat. Its green eyes stared at him for a moment, then it raised its nose, the thin whiskers tickling his cheekbones. Sitting back on his feet slowly, he watched the curious feline sniff him, rubbing and purring against his thigh as it brushed past. As it sauntered off to Jane, the sunlight to dapple through the tree leaves above and onto its short white and tan spotted fur. It's tail flipped elegantly, and he caught sight of a few brambles in its fur, along with a thorn high in its paw.

"I think it's been lost by someone…It doesn't look or act very wild. Look, at its paw, there, it's hurt."

"Hmm?" She lifted up the paw lightly, the cat staring at her curiously all the while. "Oh! Poor thing!"

"Come on, I think I have a pair of tweezers in the kitchen somewhere. At least, if it doesn't take out the thorn, we can brush out its fur."

She picked up the feline, cuddling it close to her body. "You know," she said as she followed, "I had a dream a few nights ago about a cat."

He nodded, not particularly interested, but she continued anyway. "It was a big cat, orange, and I think it was called…Crookshanks. The weird thing was, I wasn't at home, or anywhere I recognized. I was in some kind of tower or something, with these four poster beds around me…oww!"

He turned to see her playing with the cat. "Ohh, you have sharp claws, don't you?" Putting the cat down, she continued, the animal walking beside her. "The thing is, I didn't feel scared or anything, but…but like…as if, I don't know. As if I was at home, or someplace." She hesitated. "You don't think it's a memory, do you? Like, maybe I had a cat before or something, even if I never saw a tower like that?"

Something inside him seized for a moment. Of course! She'd had a dream of Hogwarts, with that ugly kneazle of hers! He was about to encourage her, and was just about to open his mouth when a thought occurred to him. He couldn't tell her, how much would she believe if he told her she came from some magical castle? He settled for a shrug.

"Maybe."

She sounded somewhat disappointed. "Oh."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the cat as they gardened, the uneasy thought never far from their mind.

* * *

Okay, I know that this chapter is very slow, and has almost nothing to do with the story. I'm sort of stalling, sorry. I figured out that I'd moved the seasons too fast, and now I have to fill in the blank chapters…I'm almost halfway through the story now (I think), so you can start guessing the ending. But remember that reviews show up, so be careful about spoilers and etc. Please review! I hope you enjoyed it! 


	7. Good Can't Last Forever

After rereading it, I realized how corny the recipes were. Oh well, no matter, it's just a small part of it. I got the recipes out of a magazine…tell me if some of the words got repetitive.

* * *

Severus was upstairs when he heard the faint ring of the doorbell. Placing the book he'd been previously reading on his seat as he rose to get the door, he stretched before making his way down the stairs, his socks making light thumps on the hollow stairwell. He reached the bottom step as another, more insistent, ring resounded through the house.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…" he grumbled, unlocking the door.

Peering around it, one hand still on the doorknob, he was met with the bright smiling face of Jane. Her hair whipped quite a bit around her face as the breeze lifted the light, frizzy locks, and even the barrette on her head did almost nothing to calm the flying mass. Placing a barely vacant hand to hold her hat down and using the other arm to keep her overcoat from flapping and knocking the books in her arm to the ground, her smile faltered.

"Oh--come in, Jane," He greeted hastily, quickly moving to the other side of the foyer to let her in. She smiled gratefully before nearly tripping over the step of the entrance. Relieving her rather large load of books, he flipped them over to read the titles as she shrugged out of her coat and placed both it and the hat on the coat stand nearby.

"The Joy of Cooking? Cooking with the CIA? What are all these for?" he inquired as he continued to look at the covers. "What's this?"

"Well, from your knowledge of food, your variety of it in your kitchen, and how you cook so well, I drew the conclusion that you liked cooking. Not to mention the few times you mentioned that it was your hobby." Her lips quirked into a cheeky smile to spread into a teasing grin, faint dimples on her cheeks.

"Mm…." He said absent-mindedly, giving her a quick smile in return as he glanced up before returning his attention to a particularly interesting recipe on Grilled Salmon with Orange Cream Sauce.

"Come on," Jane sighed as she dragged him to the kitchen. "Bring your infatuation with food to the kitchen, standing in the foyer is hardly the way to thank me when I bring you all of these."

All she got in response was a glare as she turned toward the kitchen island, pulled out a stool, and plopped on it, her chin on her left palm as she watched him zigzag toward the other chair. As he flipped the page to a recipe on Brussels sprouts, he felt a sharp pain on his side. Glaring at the offending yet innocent corner of the countertop, he nearly fell off his seat as Jane used her foot to tug the chair to the side as he sat down. He had to slam both hands and the book on the table to keep from falling over. Trying but failing miserably to scare Jane, who was biting back a giggle as she tried to look indifferent, he joined her in laughter for a while before asking where she'd gotten the books.

"I've had them for awhile…they came from a roommate, when she left college. I came across the box when I was cleaning, so," she shrugged here, "I thought you might want them and decided to give them to you."

He paused, then turned to her with a smile. "Do you have plans for tonight?"

"No…why?"

He seemed hesitant, but continued. "Perhaps we could try out some of these recipes, have dinner together. We have just enough time to go out and buy the ingredients…Would you like it?"

She smiled up at him, her features illuminated with delight. "Of course!"

* * *

By the time they had agreed on a recipe and finished the shopping, the wind outside had turned chilly, and the sky had begun to darken. As of now, they were in the warm, bright kitchen, bustling around each other and the food as they cooked the late meal.

"Onion…garlic…and half of three-fourths is…three-eighths…of extra-virgin olive oil…" came from where Severus stood muttering at the stove, stirring the beginnings of Zucchini-Mint soup as a rack of lamb and several grape tarts, made from a generous serving of grapes from the local vineyard, baked in the oven. Jane, meanwhile, was assembling potato and tomato galettes, coating the tomatoes with the remaining oil mixture in front of her as the wafting scents of mint and lamb caused her stomach to growl once again.

"Are you really that hungry?" Severus called over his shoulder, adding the stock and water to the mixture before letting the soup boil.

"Isn't the lamb affecting you yet? And you're so close to the oven."

"Of course it is. Don't worry, we just have to make the gremolata for the meat and puree this soup…and pop the galettes into the oven."

"And set the table and carve the lamb?"

"Yes."

"That's not 'just' anything…oops." A slice of the tomato slipped from her fingers, landing with a splash in the oil mixture.

Severus turned around partially, ladle still in hand. "What is it?"

"Oh…nothing." Walking over to the sink to wash her hands, she asked, "I'll open a bottle of wine…I saw a bottle of Kendall Jackson Merlot in the pantry earlier. What about that?"

"Seems fine to me," he replied, pureeing the soup in the blender.

"Okay, I'll set the table—" the oven timer went off here, "And pop in the galettes…"

"I'll finish off with the gremolata, then."

Satisfied, they continued their work.

Thirty minutes later found them enjoying the meal, sipping the wine as they alternated between the lamb and potatoes. "Mmm…" Jane said as she crunched on a crunchy slice of potato, coated with juice of the tomato.

"I couldn't agree more." Taking a small spoonful of the gremolata and adding it to his lamb, Severus carved a bite-sized piece before popping it in his mouth. "How's the writing going so far?"

At this, Jane placed down her fork, sipping at the wine before replying. "I don't know…I have so much to worry about that creativity hardly gets a chance. Even my compositions for school are rather…poorly written, I guess you can say."

"What do you mean, so much to worry about? It's not bothering you again, is it?" By it, he meant her amnesia, but he never could bring himself to say the words.

"It? Oh—well, yes. I've just found my thoughts wandering lately…trying to remember things."

"Jane…" he sighed, swallowing his mouthful of lamb before continuing. "Why do you think about it so much?"

"What else am I supposed to do? Sometimes, when my classmates talk about going home for the weekend, or—or how their parents are, I can't help it. I can't help wondering who my parents were, if they're wondering who I am now!" She speared her lamb rather viciously, glaring at it.

"I know—"

"No! You don't get it! I can't just ignore my past! Can you imagine what it's like to not have a past?"

He flinched, she'd definitely struck a nerve. She didn't know what his past was like! She didn't know all of the beatings, the taunting, the company of the Death Eaters he'd had to bear…how uncontrollable his actions were! She didn't really think that he'd been cuddled in his formal life, did she? Mentally, he sighed. Of course she did, she didn't remember his sour moods, his bitter remarks.

"Some of us would rather not have one," he replied softly, after a long, tense silence.

She looked up, startled. "I—" she looked down, picking at the potatoes on her plate. "I'm sorry…I didn't know…I didn't mean to…to…"

"No need to apologize, you couldn't know it. But I'm sorry for ruining your dinner." He gestured to her still full plate. She offered him a small smile, which he returned. "Let's just forget about it."

The rest of the dinner commenced in silence, a thoughtful, yet companionable quiet that continued throughout the evening.

"Come on," Severus stretched in his chair before his empty plate. "Let's rest a bit before desert. Even if the idea of grape tarts is extremely appealing."

"Yes, if I ate another bite I'd probably burst." She replied as she scraped back her chair and carried her dinnerware to the sink.

"Just leave it there…I'll wash it later, after dessert," He tipped up his wine glass to get the last bit.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, just leave it on the counter…yes, right there would be fine…" Placing his own dishes in the sink and moving the leftovers to the counter and the dessert to cool on the table, he started up the stairs. "We can relax in the library, if you'd like."

"That sounds great…settling with a book on a comfy armchair…I can imagine how it'd be in the winter."

"It's wonderful…especially when you can see the moon from the windows. It's like you're watching everything from outside, but the fire keeps you warm."

"And the heater?"

He laughed as he entered the room, flicking on the lights. "And the heater."

He was about to pick up the book he'd left on his chair earlier that day when he realized she wasn't behind him. Turning, he watched her stare in awe at the private library. "Wow…all this to one person?"

"The space? Or the books?"

"Both. And I can see what you mean by the view…" She walked up to the window. "I'll bet you can even see the park's lake from here when it's light…" She turned, happiness written all over her face.

He couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm. "A book, perhaps?"

"Hmm…what genre are you interested in?" She surveyed the collection on the shelves. "A lot of novels…mystery…and children's books?"

"From my childhood, yes."

"Hmm…perhaps I'll read this." Pulling out a book and settling on the chair across from Severus, they relaxed, each lost in their own small world.

* * *

Suppressing a lazy yawn, Severus looked up at the clock above the mantel, noting the late time. Softly, as not to startle her: "I think the dessert has cooled enough, and that we have digested some of our dinner…is the idea of grape tarts as appealing to you as it is to me?"

Looking up, she smiled. "Not so much as the book, but I think that a bit would be nice." Following him out of the room, she was about to turn down the staircase when she noticed the small room nestled in the corner. "What's in that room?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just some old toys and the like."

Too late, she was already there, hand on the doorknob. "Of course it's something, childhood memories always are something. They define who you are, or why you are who you are." Slipping in, he saw her form search blindly for the light switch for a moment before they flickered on, illuminating the small chest under the window. She froze for a moment, then, in a sort of way like she was being controlled, she reached for the lid, pulling the cover open.

"Jane…" he was puzzled by her strange behavior. Striding in, he called her name again. "Jane!"

After a few moments of silence, she still did not respond. Instead, she continued to rummage through, staring blankly ahead at the wall in front of her, hands still moving to reach for the time-turner that lay on the top. Severus watched with a growing fear as the device began to glow a distinct blue, apprehension gnawing at his stomach.

"Jane…_Jane!_ Stop!"

Suddenly, she began murmuring...strange things. He recognized the curses, hexes that poured out of her mouth, indistinct, monotone. As he stepped forward, trying to wrench it out of her hands, she began to scream.

"No, professor…don't…" Her words became a rapid flood of sound, shrill and hysterical. Trying harder, he managed to pull the device from her grip, and to his relief, the glow faded. Looking back at her eyes, he realized they were still glassy, and then her eyelids fluttered. Swaying, she collapsed to the ground. "Prof…fessor…"

"Jane….Miss Granger!" All the time, thoughts were racing through his head. How had she suddenly remembered? And what was that blue glow? "Hermione!"

His frustration and helplessness building up, he ran down to the kitchen, hoping that his call would not reach the hospital too late.

* * *

Hours later, he was sitting in the lobby of the hospital, still waiting for her to wake up, finding nothing of interest to look at, and only the limp cushion of the chair there to comfort him, he decided to write to Albus. Hopefully, he had at least a clue of what had happened. Asking the receptionist for pen and paper, he began writing, the words running crooked as he balanced it on his knee.

_Albus,_

_I'm sure you remember the letter I sent you a month back about Jane's worsening amnesia. I fear it's not just a permanent case of memory loss…the doctors say that her brain has been damaged more than they had originally thought. Of course, they do not know of the curse that hit her, but it seems that she may be having reactions to things in her past._

_A while ago, she claimed to have a dream where she was in Hogwarts, with that cat of hers…all she knew was that she was in a castle, and thought it something she had imagined, as goes with a normal dream. However, her writings also show some of the unconscious memories. Many of the settings and characters are like those of the magical community. Those small bits did not seem like a lot to me at first, but this evening, as she was over at my house for dinner, she came across the room I stored my old things in. The time-turner someone had placed in my trunk before was found by her, but not by coincidence. It was as if the magic controlled her…the device began glowing blue. She began muttering curses and spells, and she had a brief spell of recognition of me as her professor. _

_She will live, that is certain, but for how much longer, we don't know. Is there anyway you can send help? She doesn't deserve this, and you know it._

_Severus _

Later, when he had left assured that she'd be okay, a nurse came by the seat he had been sitting on, cold and empty. Finding the piece of paper on the floor, crumpled and stepped on, the woman threw it away, not giving the letter a second glance as it fell into the wastebin.

* * *

I now respond to reviews with the new reply system, and I hope it works out fine.

Also, I know the ending is a bit confusing, it would really help to have specific questions so I could try and make it more understandable, thank you.


	8. Misunderstandings I

Finally! I know you're all thinking how long it's been since I updated...if you even remember at all. Well, this chapter was the first in a while that I had to start from scratch since the others were part of my older one...so, of course, it took me longer. Besides that, there's the fact that I had marching band, then loads of projects, and then what seemed like a school-wide agreement to assign tests on the last week before winter break...and I still have finals, too. But at least this is up, and I hope I can type up a few more chapters so I can post them even if I'm busy. So, to the point, sorry for the wait. I tend to forget the point easily.

You all know the traditional disclaimer...nothing here needs disclaimers this time, I don't think.

* * *

Tick, tick, tick…

It was silent in the small room, or very nearly. No window let in an ounce of sunlight, only a dim, fluorescent lamp illuminating the bare walls to a faint indigo tinge. The green glow of the monitors shifted silently, a small yet startling beep emanating as a screen shut down. Nothing stirred—no bed sheets rustled, no shoes squeaked on the waxed tiled floor. Every so often, a dim thump would come from across the hallway, the result of a heavy door being shut. And the clock on the wall continued ticking, never slowing down.

By the bed in the middle of the room, a chair was pulled up, its occupant slumped over. He stirred, wincing as the tension in his back, shoulders, and neck made itself known. Blinking and stretching a bit, Severus gazed down at the still form of the young woman sleeping in the bed. It had been two long nights (sleepless nights until he had insisted at staying at her side), yet Jane had never once woken up. It wasn't uncommon for her to stir a bit, or to mumble, but the movements gave no sign of her once eager self. Once, he'd looked forward to seeing those small fits, now, it gave him no more hope than the white hand clenching the whiter sheets beneath. The doctors and nurses that would check up on her dismissed her mumbling to just what they were—mumbling, yet Severus always thought he'd hear a spell, or a name of someone from what seemed like ages ago. Funny enough, the spells weren't just any, as he'd recognized this afternoon. They seemed to be ones that might revitalize her, or bring her back to health. Of course, Severus was…glad (for lack of better words) that her condition was stable, but he couldn't keep away the constant, gnawing worry that nagged at him and his thoughts.

Severus had no doubt that her mind was going through her childhood years, when she had still been a witch and the stubborn know-it-all piece of the Golden Trio. But what if she woke up, retaining those memories? He'd always known that there could be that chance, yet now, it seemed so much closer, as if it were almost reality. Pondering the idea of a Hermione Granger confronting him instead of the seemingly more sensible Jane had always been banished to the back of his mind…so what could he do now? Could he confront her with the cold truth as a friend after seven years of enmity? What would she think? That he was using her as navigation in the muggle world? Or maybe she wouldn't know that he had known her true identity. But what if she did? It couldn't get worse. She'd scream at him for lying to her about her past, for pretending to be her friend. Was he really pretending it? He'd given so much to gain a small sense of freedom, could he bear to lose it all now?

He was just about to reel in his line of thought when he felt a slight pull under his right hand, which was still on the blanket. Looking down, he saw her shift slightly, pulling the covers with her. Thinking she was goung to have another fit, he bent over, about to pull the sheets straighter around her body, raising his hand above her shoulder, when he met slightly dazed, cinnamon brown eyes watching him. Slightly disoriented, and not knowing what to do, he froze.

"…Severus?" Her voice was quiet, seeming to crescendo out of the expectant silence. Soft and blurry, the voice brought him back to reality.

"I'm here."

She made a soft, incomprehensible sound in her throat, then shifted a bit in her position on the bed. He studied her intently. Silence filled the gap between them, and while Severus felt a bit expectant, Jane looked content to close her eyes and doze a bit. He was beginning to wonder if she had fallen back asleep when she murmured, "What happened to that thing?" Her voice made it seem like a fact, for all in the world the thing she was talking about was in plain view before him. The question snagged at his curiosity, which until now had stayed unusually tame. He felt…hesitant, apprehensive of an unknown danger.

"What do you mean?"

Silence. Her eyes were still closed, the words coming out as if they were strung together with a slur. "That metal thing. You know, with the blue light?"

If she heard his sharp intake of breath, she pretended not to. He studied her calm features for a moment, the timeturner's image spinning in his mind. Why would she ask such a question? She should have at least heard it shatter. Or maybe she'd been delusional. But wouldn't it be more demanding to know how long she had been here, if she even knew where _here_ was at all? She still lay there patiently, awaiting his answer.

"It…shattered." He could hear his own uncertainty in his voice, yet she didn't react to that either.

"Oh. I meant to ask you what you did with it."

His eyes narrowed, her calm demeanor starting to become suspicious to him. "I just swept it up…put it back into the box…why?"

"Hmm…just thought to ask," she replied nonchalantly. "The item just seemed familiar."

At this comment, he very nearly snapped. She'd kept him up with worry for forty-eight hours and all she could do was reveal her old habit of pestering him with questions like an annoying know-it-all again? Unlike the questions she used to ask, though, these seemed to have no point of connection to anything at all. And it was just him being thick, he was certain. Letting out a breath to calm his nerves, he gritted his teeth, whirling around to pointedly stare at the blank wall, feeling like he'd bore a hole through the other side any second.

"Were you ever a professor?" There it was again, the voice that was neither Jane, nor Hermione Granger.

"Yes." He bit out the answer, short and harsh.

"Why aren't you one now?"

Turning around so quickly that he almost tripped over his own feet, he leaned over the bed, a menacing growl on his face. "Do tell me how that concerns you."

She blinked, startled, his voice finally snapping some kind of emotion to her features. He smirked inside, feeling a kind of guilty satisfaction. She didn't reply, and he ignored it.

"Oh, did you _forget_? I wasn't aware." His voice took on a sarcastic, biting edge, one he recognized as something he hadn't used for months. "You seem to have recovered your memories well enough. Did you not remember what I promised, or do you hate me too much now?"

By now, his voice was wild, trying to console himself rather than trying to tell her anything. "I'm not that useless—" He stopped, frustrated at her, at himself, at everything. Straightening and then turning abruptly on his heel, he snapped his mouth shut, his hand resting on the doorknob for a mere fraction of a second. "I bid you good day, _Miss Granger_."

Without another word, he stalked out. Slamming the door behind him, he glimpsed the confusion and hurt on her face, her form in the process of pushing herself off the bed, before turning down the hallway to the exit of the hospital to the heavily pouring rain.

* * *

Later on that day, when he was staring at the table in the kitchen, he thought of how everything had been. That one small chance at happiness, the one chance of having an eternal friend. Now, he'd lost it. How could he have not? He'd let his tongue get ahead of him again, not feeling, not listening, never thinking back to what had happened. Perhaps she really hadn't deserved it. Whose fault had it been for her to lose her memories in the first place, after all, and have to suffer through this? Not her own, certainly. And he most certainly hadn't been expecting to see her again.

His thoughts turned back to those that had been in his head, when the room had still been quiet, when there had been no need to think of anything else. What would happen now? If, as he thought, she had gathered all her memories and habits back, what would she do? Act on her old prejudices as a bloody Gryffindor? It hurt him to think of the promise he had made to her that time in the café. Whatever had happened to the idea of being there for her? He certainly wasn't now, and at the same time, he most certainly was not going to go back. And the memory of her face, begging and hopeful, when she had asked for reassurance that he knew nothing of her past, stuck out prominently in his mind. If she did remember her memories, she would hate him for lying to her. And if she didn't, she still would. There was no way she could have not heard the spiteful "Miss Granger" that he had thrown at her before he left. From that, any intelligent young woman, especially her, could draw out the idea that he'd known her sometime before.

He sighed, cradling his head in his hands. It was all a mess, everything. His life, her life…unable to contain himself anymore, he let himself cry, head in his arms at the kitchen table, the rain pounding in sheets at the window outside, as it wailing with him. And for the first time in years, he felt no shame for the tears in his eyes.

* * *

He did not see her for nearly a week. Severus would still walk to the park, but instead of sitting down to read a book, as he had made a habit of doing, he would stroll around the lake, sometimes watching the ripples of the surface distort his reflection as the geese glided at the water's edge, or tossing a pebble or two into the water out of disgust of who he was.

He hadn't felt this depressed since the last battle had ended.

Severus had thought that leaving his past, his childhood, would give him peace and quiet for the rest of his years, yet, coming here had only made things worse. Keeping childhood toys probably hadn't been a good idea. He scowled, the good lord certainly didn't seem to want him to enjoy any rest at all. Maybe he should have moved to Italy.

But what could be wrong with keeping toys and trinkets? Even him, the mean, uncompassionate Snape, still wanted something to retain his fondest memories, the very best of them. At least, he still had them. Jane didn't…or hadn't. Or did she? _Had_ she been asking questions like that the other day to get rid of him? After all, what place did he have in her memories? Part of him wanted to see her again, but the other half seemed, well, afraid, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself. Suppose he was to meet her again: what would he say? If she had recovered her memories, would he have to pull back up the façade of the horrible bat of the dungeons? He didn't want to. Or if she didn't remember, what would he say to apologize for such an outburst, so uncalled for? He shouldn't have supposed that she remembered everything, he thought tiredly, especially in her condition. An emotional outbreak could do anything to her in that state. His heart sank at another possibility…what if she remembered nothing at all? What was it she had said?

_She looked up at him, her eyes searching desperately for a bit of hope, anything. "I promise, if things get worse, that I'll be here to help you, okay?"_

"But—but…what if I don't remember you? Or, or—" 

"_Shh." He cut her off, wondering when he had become so attached to the young Gryffindor. "It'll all work out."_

"_Do you promise? That you'll be here? That it'll all work out?"_

_He hesitated slightly, then, "I promise."_

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, from his scalp to the tips of the feathery strands. He was seriously beginning to lose his mind. She had already proved she remembered his name, which crossed out any form of the option that she had forgotten everything. So much for that shock…any reassurance he got only brought him back to his feelings in the beginning when he first got here. But what about him being an ex-professor? Maybe he should have just been stubborn and asked her why she'd wanted to know that bit anyway. Another answer to make another question out of, he thought wryly, if he'd ever collected that bit. She would have been just as stubborn, probably. Bloody Gryffindors. Or it could have been coincidence.

Tossing one last pebble into the lake, he walked back down the path.

_Severus! Severus!_

Thinking he'd heard something, he was about to turn, but dismissed it as the wind and his restless mind. His hair whipping at his face, he continued back home. Home. What a comforting word.

_Severus!_

The wind wailed behind him, matching his mood.

_Wait for me! Severus!_

Right before he turned outside the gate, he thought he saw a flash of cinnamon curls disappear from behind a curtain of blossoms, which were whirling to kiss the ground at the spot he'd just been.

* * *

Sorry for some of the longer paragraphs that seemed to just ramble on...if you want a breif summary, just skim, or ask me. They're just Severus's thoughts, nothing too important to the plot.

I'll try and update as soon as possible, and I'll reply to all my reviewers, I promise! Thank you!


	9. Misunderstandings II

An update. Wow. I think I might not be able to update again for sometime though; I'll try.

It's getting difficult to keep track of my chapter numbers, so I'm going to re-title them, for your benefit as well as my own. Also, because I know that it's difficult to remember what happened after such a long stretch of time of not reading this, I'll post summaries as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, and the main flow of the idea for this chapter I took from the movie The Interpreter.

* * *

Summary of Previous Events:

At the final battle, Hermione was hit with a memory curse, now suffering from amnesia and calling herself Jane. Severus found her time-turner; a curse hit him and gave him a second chance in life as a young man. He left the wizarding world, and found the young Gryffindor in Napa, now named Jane. They've become friends, and he has promised to help her and stay by her side. Every now and then, Severus receives letters of advice from Albus and Minerva.

Recently, Jane had a reaction to the time-turner, and misjudging her questions, Severus left her, thinking that she didn't need him anymore. He is bothered by thoughts of her, and what to do. Now, she comes to try and make amends, as well as find out what happened in the hospital that day.

* * *

Tilting his head back, his eyes shut, Severus sighed. After a moment, he opened them again, the brightness of the sunlight reflecting off the off-white ceiling of the library he was in. He stared blankly at the carvings in the corners before letting his head fall back in place on his spine, pushing himself off of the chair he had been sitting rather tensely on. The book fell of his lap, he didn't care. Rubbing the spot between his eyes with the hand that wasn't supporting him on the arm of the chair, he shook his head. When had life really become so utterly boring?

His inner voice sighed exasperatedly, for the umpteenth time that day, and it was only late morning. He had been trying to run away from that little voice of reason the past hour as it became even more insistent, arguing and snapping until he found himself speaking aloud to himself rather than reading the text he had found interest in two days ago. Nothing seemed to be able to hold his attention for longer than a mere second now…except for one matter.

One he wished he never had to think of again.

Hermione, Jane, whatever. That annoying chit must have been sent to pester him until the end of his days. And he had thought she seemed like his shadow then, with her questions of this topic or that, so and so essay, or, he thought spitefully, stealing from his stores. The idea of her wouldn't even give him peace for a moment. First the amnesia, now the guilt that ate away for hours on end…

He growled, stepping out of the room with a renewed vigor.

'Now what?' He complained to his conscience, which was now dragging him mercilessly to the little upstairs room he had so carefully been avoiding. Feeling rather grumpy, he didn't even bother to fight the small pulls that were gradually guiding him to reach for the doorknob, turn it, push the door, step inside…He sighed. He was going insane. Definitely. Since when did his conscience lead his actions instead of his own thoughts? He wasn't saying that his own thoughts landed him in a better place, or that his conscience didn't seem to spout common sense as much as Granger had spouted questions and textbooks, but he couldn't see the sense in this at all.

He stared down his nose at the chest sitting in front of him, wondering if he should open it or not. How would it help, anyway? He should just turn on his heel and slam the door behind him in that dramatic fashion that he had always done when he was still a professor with billowing robes and intimidating glares. Where had it all gone? He mused over that silently, still staring at the wooden box before him.

Guessing that he had nothing better to do with his time, he knelt down, running his fingers over the carved chest in a caress before letting his fingers trace the small latch. With a creak, he pushed it open, the lid falling on the wall behind it with a light thump.

On top was the fractured time-turner, its shape protruding from the velvet bag he had brushed it in. He reached his hand inside, his fingertips brushing the fabric as he hesitantly reached for the drawstring. Would it be a good idea to open it? It wasn't just because of the now obvious fact that it held unstable magic, but also the thought of memories. Everything seemed to remind him of her, but not so much so as this small chunk of glass and metal, bringing back the recent events to mind.

He pulled open the small bag, dropping the instrument in his open palm. Turning it over, he watched as the sunlight from the window danced on the sharper shards. Admiring the little rainbows they threw on the walls for a bit, he placed it back inside before shutting the trunk and standing up again. Staring a moment longer at the wood, he turned out the door.

Walking out of the room, his step was considerably lighter. For what reason, he did not know, but maybe seeing the time-turner again had been just the thing that he needed to do. Continuing downstairs, he rummaged through the cupboards to grab something to eat. Finding a box of truffles just beyond reach, he leaned in, grabbing a few before knocking the top back on and closing the refrigerator. Popping one in his mouth, he opened the front door, about to savor the chocolate when he came face to face with the person he had just banished from his thoughts.

Hermione Granger.

Any ideas of enjoying the outdoors were now squashed, non-existent. It wasn't necessarily that he detested her presence, but he definitely hated the guilt she brought to him with a deep, unequaled passion. Taking a deep breath, she closed his eyes breifly, exhaling and opening his eyes again to see her slowly uncurling the fist that had been inches away from a door moments ago. He studied her for a bit, watching her drop her arm back to her side and her gaze to the ground as well.

Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

Her head immediately snapped up, and he caught a guilty glance in her eyes before it disappeared into a look more hopeful. She looked back down, fiddling with her fingers and the end of the light dress jacket, which she wore over a tank top and skirt. He took notice of the somewhat warmer weather outside, and at her small nod of affirmation, he cast off his jacket and joined her outside.

Even if it was still spring, summer was already making its appearance. The new leaves were beginning to uncurl, deepening their green and growing broader in size. Primroses and lilies already blossomed from their buds, and even the constant sunlight that now filtered between the branches to kiss their heads and shoulders felt warmer, lingering in the air. The scent of grass had gradually replaced the heavier one of rain, so subtly that even Severus's sensitive nose almost missed it. He breathed deeply, enjoying the air, forgetting about the person at his side.

"It's a beautiful day for a walk, isn't it?"

He glanced at her soft interruption. She didn't seem to mean much by the question, and seemed to be studying the sky. When she returned his glance, he only made an indifferent sound in the back of his throat, then looked away. It was silent again.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you lately. You know, with class work to be made up, homework, hospital visits…" she trailed off, sounding uncertain. Severus kept his face impassive, showing no signs of emotion whatsoever. When it was clear that he wasn't going to say anything, she gave an exasperated sigh.

"Why the silent treatment, Severus? How come you don't talk to me anymore? It doesn't even seem like you care!"

After that last comment, she snapped her mouth shut, as though she thought it might actually be true. He continued to look forward, but replied flatly, "I'm not in the mood to talk."

Severus could almost feel her roll her eyes. "Like I'm going to believe that! You were the one who invited me! And never once on a walk did you not find something to say."

"I didn't ask you to come here. I only wanted some fresh air."

Her mouth dropped in disbelief at the selfish reply, and she stopped in her tracks. "What is wrong with you?" She hurried to keep up with his increasing strides.

"I could ask the same. In the…the hospital," he still had trouble talking about the incident, "you treated me the same way! Now, you suddenly care. That's not wrong to you?" He watched her pointedly from the corner of his eye. If possible, her jaw dropped even farther, and she snapped it up again, brushing a strand of hair that had come out of her knot of hair from her face in growing frustration.

"I wasn't even fully awake! Haven't you—"

"I'm not fully rested," he retorted. "What difference does that make?"

"And why would that be? What, did you stay up reading the whole night? In all the time I've known you, you've never once lost sleep because you lost yourself in a book. Did you suddenly find a book in your library that you never read before and found too much interest to even rest?"

He was silent, resolutely increasing the speed of his strides even more, even if it was just to make her save her breath to keep up with him. He knew that she knew that that much was true, and there wasn't anything else anyone would be doing at that ungodly hour in the muggle world, besides worrying himself to sleeplessness. Which was precisely what she wanted to hear. Not letting go of the argument that easily, he was about to reply, but she had already cut in.

"Unless you have been waking up extremely early to take care of some rare, exotic plant that needs precise measurements of water at dawn, I don't believe you."

He really should have shut his mouth then, but he wasn't about to stop there neither. "For your information, you're supposed to water your plants early when the weather gets hot."

"I don't remember you complaining about lack of sleep if it was this warm before."

Completely annoyed at her insistent arguments, he whirled around to face her, stopping, he realized, right next to the small clearing they had enjoyed their picnic. "What are you really here for? I don't have all day."

She bit her tongue, probably to keep from saying something about how he hadn't been doing anything but eating truffles and longing for a walk outside.

"Well?" he prompted, his eyebrow raised in impatience.

"I just wanted to apologize, okay? I'm sorry for acting so indifferent to you, and not coming to talk to you! Isn't that what you wanted to hear?"

He turned back to the house, gathering from her apology that she had given up the argument. Still, he didn't feel like that was what he wanted at all. "I asked you what you were here to say, not to recite what you thought I wanted to hear."

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't need your apology," he snarled. And with that, he pulled open the door, stepping inside and closing it before she could utter another word.

* * *

Once he had shut the door, he couldn't help but groan. What had he done now? Last time, his stupid assumptions hadn't only caused numerous sleepless nights, but also a frustrating loss of attention span. And he thought he had just gotten over it. Apparently not, especially with her here. Suppressing the urge to do something completely insane, he stepped into the kitchen, putting some water to boil in a kettle before sitting down to stare the copper pot into oblivion.

Seconds ticked, minutes ticked. It didn't seem to make him feel any better. In fact, he only felt more misery being piled on top of his head.

It seemed to take too long for the kettle to whistle, and he sighed in relief when it finally did. Taking a mug from the cupboard, he picked up the kettle and tipped it over the cup, watching the steam rise and cloud his face. Rummaging in the pantry for the box of lemon tea he kept for the rare yet seemingly more frequent moments of depression that would take over him now and again, he noted that he was running out of the precious ingredient before placing the small packet in the water. Almost immediately, color spread from the package to the water around it, turning it into a beautiful amber. Adding a spoonful of sugar, he took a slice of lemon left in the refrigerator, squeezing a small amount to add to his tea. Sitting back down, he stared at the cup before removing the remains of the packet and taking a small scalding sip, placing it back on the table with an uncontrolled thump.

Severus placed his chin in his left palm, contemplating the steaming tea in front of him. It was clear, bright in color, and slightly shadowed by a few loose dregs from the packet. He thought it was rather similar to a Gryffindor, bright, only slightly shadowed by guilt—and definitely easy to see through. He was reaching for the cup to take another sip when he became aware of a certain brunette standing at the doorway. As stubborn a Gryfffindor as a stain on a teacup.

"You should have locked the door." Her voice was scolding, yet still gentle. He didn't reply.

He felt the stare from her eyes on the back of his head before she sat down across from him, playing with the string from the tea packet lying on the table. She was content to let the quiet continue between them, as comfortable at his table as if she were sitting at her own.

"May I?" Jane gestured at his teacup, having seen the box of tea still on the counter, the door still swung open above it. He shrugged, sipping at his own tea. She pushed herself up, taking the teabag with her before throwing it away and reaching for a cup. Shutting the cabinet, she added the extra water in the kettle to her own cup before taking out the second to last packet of tea. "You're almost out."

He scowled. It wasn't like he hadn't observed it himself just a moment ago. Finishing her touches on her beverage, she resumed her seat, blowing on the dark liquid before sipping it again. It stayed like that for a long while, the only sounds being that of a quiet sip, or the soft thunk of the cup against the table, until any remaining tea in their cups had become only lukewarm.

"It was a long time ago, you know, when I became a professor." He felt her eyes staring at his head again, but he continued anyway. "I never wanted to become one. It seemed so boring to me."

He paused a moment, wondering how much to say, but decided to stick to any facts that wouldn't bring up the mention of magic.

"I grew up there, at the boarding school. People would make fun of me…I just ignored them. When I finally graduated, I thought that was the last time I would see that place. I just kind of wondered what to do with my life, never really doing anything but doing something at the same time. I don't know. It seemed sensible to just ignore everyone.

"Until it happened. You know, the kind of things that make you realize you haven't been living at all. The kind of things that show you how stupid you were, how blind you were to reality just when you thought you had learned it all. I just graduated…what was I supposed to know?

"It wasn't like the had classes that told you how to make sure that you locked your doors, your windows, to scrutinize anyone you talked to. It always seemed like common sense. What is common sense? If it's so common, how come no one uses it?

"The little bit of pride that I had taken in getting good grades, being smart…it all went away. What did those things matter when you'd killed somebody? It seemed like everyone did it, everywhere…but to become one of them?"

He looked up at her. She was staring at the dregs in her cup, but listening attentively. He didn't even know he had begun talking again.

"I ran the next day, trying to keep away the thoughts that he was going to find me…he was…

"I couldn't find anywhere safe. I mean, where I felt safe. I appeared at the gates of the school again. They were just as surprised as I was, the professors. I told the headmaster that I wanted a job, that I wanted to forget that I had ever killed someone. It was well worth it to face those other memories.

"Or so I thought. I spent years tormenting students, remembering how this reminded me of that, how that brought back memories of this. I don't know…I just couldn't handle it, I guess."

He stopped, feeling that he didn't need to say anymore. She probably didn't understand any of it, why would he care? Tilting his head back to drink the last of his tea, he pushed himself away from the table to drop the cup in the sink. Turning around, he left, stepping up the stairs and into the library. Pulling all the drapes shut, he threw himself into a chair. For once, the tea hadn't helped at all. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was him.

Downstairs, he heard the sounds of the water running, the clink of cups. A few doors shut, and then the sound of boots on the wooden floor reached his ears. He still sat there, not bothering to move.

He heard the thump of something hard, he couldn't classify it. Almost immediately, the soft sounds of the piano downstairs reached him. It was nothing really, just a few scales and chords. He listened to the keys, recalling the names of the major scales, fighting to remember the minor scales. It wasn't until he had finally remembered that the sounds were that of a G minor arpeggio that he realized that the front door had shut, the last echoes of her good bye ringing faintly throughout the house.

* * *

I hope that this chapter had enough to make you think, but that it wasn't too confusing. Sorry for any grammatical errors...I'm too lazy to proof read this well. I'm looking forward to some critique.

Did I spell arpeggios wrong?


	10. Finding Home

I made the update in just one week…actually, I had half of it done on Tuesday. I'd had the ideas already as I was working on the last chapter, so it was just transferring it into readable English, but then I decided to change the end a bit, and it's turned out better then I thought it could.

I'll let you read the chapter, then continue my notes at the end, but first, a few things.

Summary of Previous Events: At the final battle, Hermione was hit with a memory curse, now suffering from amnesia. Severus found her time-turner; a curse hit him and gave him a second chance in life as a young man. He left the wizarding world, and found the young Gryffindor in Napa, now named Jane. They've become friends, and he has promised to help her and stay by her side. Every now and then, Severus receives letters of advice from Albus and Minerva.

Recently, Jane had a reaction to the time-turner, and misjudging her questions, Severus left her, thinking that she didn't need him anymore. They've made amends, coming to an understanding, and it's made Severus only too aware of what he could have done. Severus invites Jane to meet him at the café, and once again, he gets more than he's bargained for.

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but the plot for this one is mine. Barely based on The Interpreter, but I'll give credit. Also, lyrics are Tim McGraw's, titled She's My Kind Of Rain. The ideas on home are all, in its entirety, mine.

* * *

_Dear Albus and Minerva,_

_I'm sorry for the delay…I've been a bit busy lately._

_I'll start off with my usual questions…how are you? Has there been any progress? Is there news on anyone that we know? I'm curious for news, although I can't say I'm expecting too much._

_Not much has been going on lately. Okay, maybe not, that would be an outright lie, but I won't tell you for fear of embarrassing myself. And you both know that I would never do that to myself._

_Hermione's been…okay, I suppose. We got into a bit of an argument, but after yesterday, I could have either ruined it or patched it up. I prefer the latter._

_Do I sound like a sentimental Gryffindor? Don't worry, Minerva, I'm not insulting you or your little cubs._

_Oh, that reminds me, I need some more of that lemon tea. Would you mind sending some over along with your reply? I had two packets left, but Hermione took the second to last one…I really don't want to find an empty box next time I need some tea. I just used up the last packet this morning. I can survive without it for a day or two, I suppose, although it seems like I go through those packets more quickly now. _

_And please don't send the same owl with the parcels again…I don't care how strong it is, or how long it can last, writing that it can bite (hard!) at the end of your letter doesn't do half an ounce of good._

_I've included a few packages, do tell me if you enjoy them or not._

_It's a nice morning, so I think I'll go out a bit. Reply soon!_

_Severus

* * *

_

He yawned, stretching as he absentmindedly flicked a strand of offending hair from his face. It had definitely grown much longer, and as of now, all of it was held into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Or almost all of it, at least. There were still those small wisps that stubbornly insisted on escaping and tickling his cheekbones. Rifling through the piles of papers on his desk before him for an envelope that wasn't stained with coffee, tea, or other liquid, he came across a small sticky note that he hadn't noticed before. Turning his head, he made out seven numbers, hastily scrawled, and the name Jane beside it.

When had she slipped this on top of his pile of papers? From the amount of paper that had made its way on top of it, it had been quite a while. Staring at it for a bit, he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to call her, to just see how she was. His mind selfishly told him that he just wanted to make sure that he himself wasn't being ignored, rather than checking on her to make sure that she hadn't been too badly hurt by him yesterday, but he dismissed it. Nonsense! He may have been a Slytherin, but it didn't mean he was completely heartless.

Climbing down the stairs to the phone in the kitchen (he hated being disturbed by people in his study), he looked at the number once more before dialing it. He fiddled with the scrap of paper, wondering what he was going to say as the phone rang once, twice, thrice. He frowned. Wasn't she ever going to pick up?

He sighed as the last ring was cut off, interrupted by a lively message to "leave a name, number, and message!" the voice definitely identifiable as Jane's. Hearing a beep, he sighed, then began talking into the receiver over the slight crackle of static.

"Hello, Jane?" Silence. "Jane? This is Severus. I was just calling because I found your number on my table…Are you there?" Silence again. Sigh. "Listen, could you call me back? You have my number—or wait. Don't call back, I'll just—" Another sigh. "Here just…just meet me at the café at 2 o'clock, okay? You know, the corner one? You know which one I'm talking about." Pause. "I guess I'll see you then."

He hung up, looking at the small piece of paper still in his hands. Sighing once more, he walked back upstairs, resuming his hunt for an envelope in which he could send his letter.

* * *

He was sitting in one of the corner booths, fiddling with the ceramic condiment holder when he spotted her coming by. She passed by the window he was at, not noticing he was there, and his gaze followed her into the café he was currently in. Watching her glance around quickly before spotting him, he was relieved to see that she looked as cheerful as ever.

"I got your message," she said a bit breathlessly as she slid into the seat across from him.

"The obvious, or you wouldn't have happened to come in looking for me, would you?" He quirked an eyebrow, and she smiled warmly before shrugging out of her jacket.

"Anything to drink?" he inquired.

"A decaf would be great."

Severus nodded, then headed towards the counter, ordering a black coffee, her order of decaf, and a scone. In a few moments, he came back, carrying the two cups of hot beverages and the scone balancing on a black plastic plate, placing them down on the table.

"Anything new?" she asked, neatly tearing open a pack of sweetener.

He snorted. "You just saw me yesterday." He squirmed slightly, knowing all too well that it would be better to forget anything that happened the day before. Thankfully, she left it alone.

"Just thought to ask." She sipped a bit on the steaming liquid before her before speaking again. "That's a lovely song."

_She's my kind of rain_

_Like love in a drunken sky…_

It took him a moment to realize that she was talking about the soft lyrics playing in the background. He nodded, but didn't have much of an opinion. Breaking off a bit of the scone, he nudged the plate forward. She refused the pastry filled with sugar and fat, sticking to just her drink. He savored the sugary stickiness before wiping his hands on his napkin, taking a sip from his own cup of coffee. It was quiet for a bit, both of them just enjoying each other's company.

He watched her take out a pen from her purse. Not noticing his scrutiny, she took a fresh napkin from the holder, smoothing it out before uncapping the pen, poised there to either write or draw.

She sits quietly there, like water in a jar… 

She drummed her fingertips gently on the surface of the table, tapping her pen against her fingers every once in a while as she thought. He continued to watch her, curious. Running her hand over the napkin once more, she set her pen to it, making a few sketchy lines with the black ballpoint.

_So I wait…and I try…_

_I confess like a child…_

He took another sip of his coffee, lazily listening to the music and watching her hand as she flicked her wrist to draw another curve here, turning the napkin to make another line there. Slowly, the mass of lines became a cat's face, it's paw, it's body…Leaning over to get a better view, he didn't notice that she had looked up.

"Go on." It wasn't a command, more of a suggestion, but he was genuinely interested. He hadn't known she had such a talent for drawing.

"Oh no! I'm sorry if I'm boring you, or if I seem to be bored, I just have a habit of drawing on napkins…" she trailed off.

"No, it's fine. I like watching you draw." He looked away from the napkin for a moment to see a slight blush on her cheeks, but she continued drawing anyway.

_She's my lost companion_

_She's my dreaming dream_

_Together in this brief eternity…_

As she began shading in spots with quick, precise strokes, he saw from his upside down point of view that it wasn't just any cat, but the one that she had found in his garden. She bit her lip, looking at it critically for a moment before adding a few more lines here and there and turning it around, showing it to Severus.

"Here."

She's my kind of…rain… 

Picking up the napkin, he studied it closely. For just a ballpoint pen and a napkin, it looked as realistic as if she had taken a photograph. What really caught his attention were the eyes; they seemed to be staring right through him, as if it knew exactly what he was.

…_And I wait, and I try…_

_And I confess all my crimes…_

"Wow," he said softly. Glancing back up at her, he saw her embarrassed smile, and he couldn't help but smile back in turn. "Those eyes…"

"I love drawing eyes. It's like you could put all the emotion and thoughts into those two spots." Her reply was just as quiet, and her eyes were riveted on the sketch as well.

_She's my kind of rain…_

He placed the napkin back on the table, then leaned back and studied her. She had returned her attention to the picture, and was sketching away again. A strand of her wavy hair fell across her face, covering his view of her eyes, but she quickly brushed it away, continuing her drawing when it fell again. Irritably, she threw it behind her shoulder, only for it to fall…yet again. Amused, he leaned over, reaching across the table to tuck it behind her ear.

_She's my kind of rain…_

She looked up, surprised. Another blush colored her cheeks, and he felt a smile creep across his lips. She glared as he continued laughing inside at her flustered behavior, but muttered a quick thank you in response. It was definitely amusing to see her so out of it. Strangely enough, he didn't feel awkward at all.

Leaning back again, feeling rather smug at getting to her, he decided to leave her alone. Instead, he changed the topic. "Your cat…" he gestured at the sketch her hand was hovering over. "How is it?"

She quickly grasped the new topic. "Ginger, you mean? She's great…she's indulged a bit too much in her spoils lately, I think." She smiled a wry smile, then added, "All from me of course."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ginger?"

"Well, yes. Short for Gingersnap."

If possible, his eyebrow only gained more height. "Gingersnap." It was voiced as a statement, but held the distrust only heard in a question.

"Yes, Gingersnap. I happen to think it's a very fitting name."

He watched his dregs of coffee for a bit as he swirled them around, and without looking up, questioned, "And why would that be?"

She didn't answer for awhile, he looked up. She seemed very pensive. "Oh, I don't know," she finally replied. "Her color, I guess."

"And no temper problems?"

She smiled at that. "No." She glanced at the watch on her wrist, then at the clock hanging on the wall above the counter. "Sorry, Severus, but I don't think I can spend anymore time here. I have an essay to write, and it's due on Monday."

He felt a bit disappointed that he hadn't gotten more of a chance to speak with her, but was satisfied to know that they were both on good terms again. "That's fine. I wouldn't want to be the reason that you didn't get the highest score in your class, you know."

"Nonsense." She brushed it off.

He opened the door, letting her pass in front of him before exiting the small café. "What's so non-sensible about that?"

"The very idea."

He snorted. "Hardly."

Severus was walking beside her, hands in his pockets as he watched the sky pass between the branches of the trees by the side of the sidewalk. He was admiring the crispness of the fresh late afternoon air that would soon disappear with the arrival of summer when Jane spoke again.

"This isn't the right way," she pointed out.

"What do you mean?" He looked at his surroundings (which, he did have to admit, he hadn't been paying as much attention to as he should have), and found nothing out of the ordinary.

"My dorm," she stated, "is this way. Your home," she threw her hand backward, "is that way."

"And?" He had no clue as to what she was trying to get across.

"And? Why are you walking this way then?"

Processing that she had no clue that he was walking her back, he assumed a hurt look. "You don't want me walking you home?"

"Oh." She shrugged, then watched her feet, her hair blocking her face from his view.

Feeling that it wasn't quite normal for her to hide herself behind her hair, his eyebrows knit themselves quickly in concern. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

He couldn't see past her hair, but he had the feeling she was looking through the curtain at him. "Nothing," she mumbled.

"No, tell me. Did I say something wrong?"

Se gave a small laugh, then tilted her head up, her hair falling away as she stared at the sky. "No. Well, not really. But don't you ever wonder about, well…home?"

This time, he really was confused as to what she was referring to. "I…"

"I mean, don't you ever wonder if this is really home? Don't you ever think that home might be in some other state, some other country? Or, maybe it's not even on land. Maybe home's on water."

"You can't build a house on water."

"No, not a house." She shook her head, smiling. "Home. As in, where you feel safe, content…where everyone you love is."

He took in her words. "I guess so. But why?"

"I don't know. Maybe you feel content being alone, after being a professor, but…It's just, I don't really know anyone."

"I'm here."

Somehow, she seemed startled at the statement. She gave a small smile, then opened her mouth, only to move it and close it again. Taking a deep breath, she started again.

"I know. But…" she shrugged, sighing. "Family. I can't remember them at all. To me, home is with family, with someone you've known inside out…for all of your life. Being in a dorm with a whole bunch of other girls is just so different, you know? Everyone's around the same age, it's just not home. I can't even have my own space. To you, that house could be your home, or it might not. It could have been that boarding school, but at least you can choose. I can't."

He was about to speak, but stopped. How did she know? He hadn't realized himself that he might not be home…maybe this moving hadn't helped him at all. Maybe he did belong in the wizarding world, as unhealthy as it seemed. Maybe he just wasn't…_muggle_ enough. Or maybe he had been sent as the man for the job. He ignored his problems, and turned his mind back to hers.

"Jane." He thought for a moment, fishing for the right things to say. "Maybe you are right. Maybe home is, for me, here, maybe it's at that school. But still," he stopped, holding her shoulders and looking her in the eyes, "you do have a choice. You don't have to go to school. You could find someone, find somewhere, settle down…" He made a helpless gesture, but continued anyway. "You can still do all of that, you're still young. College can wait. A degree isn't going to do anything if you don't know where you want to go, where you want to be."

He bit his tongue. He'd forgotten she didn't know that he was forty, that the time-turner had affected him as much as it had her. But he couldn't let her live life like he had. She just _had_ to learn that. What if she wasn't as fortunate as to get a second chance? She couldn't afford it.

"If you really want to find home, it's not going to come to you. You have to find it. Take Ginger, and go on an adventure." The words seemed foreign coming out of his mouth, but they felt strangely…right. He gave her shoulders a slight squeeze as she seemed to come back to her senses.

"Ginger." She gave a watery smile, he hadn't noticed that she had been about to break down. Her eyes took on a faraway look. "But I can't leave you. All of this…I just can't let it go. I can't risk it." She looked back at him. "No. Maybe I could make _this_ home."

He smiled, giving her shoulders one more squeeze before letting go. "Maybe."

She looked down, fiddling with her fingers. She was silent for a moment, but then, he heard a soft voice, just two words that stood out in his mind. "Thank you."

He smiled down at her. "You're welcome."

She bestowed upon him another smile before she started down the sidewalk again, and Severus watched her fondly for a moment before following her.

_Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. Different houses, different personalities. But in the end, we're all just the same, looking for a boat to take us home.

* * *

_

The words at the end aren't his thoughts, but just a little extra I added in for the complete feeling.

I really have to say that I'm the most pleased with this chapter. I didn't know I had it in me. It was like all these thoughts were in my sub-conscious, and all the lyrics that I wasn't even really listening to while I was typing just diffused into this document. After typing the end, I just had that warm fuzzy feeling, you know, the one you get when you've reached the right ending? It's like matching pitch, right when they fit together, those overtones just wash over you.

Not to worry, it's not the end of the fic or anything. Quite far from it, actually.

I hope you really did enjoy this chapter, and I'm looking forward to opinions!


	11. Debts Repaid

Sorry for the long update! I'm cringing as I write this…I'm sure many of you are thinking along the lines of "finally!" but I'd blame my lack of updates on the fact that I couldn't one-up my last chapter. My standards have gone up, but along with that, any ideas I've had have been dismissed, forgotten, and now I can't seem to find them anymore. It may just be me, but the way this chapter's written isn't as good as my other ones.

I've made a forum, I would greatly appreciate if any of you would drop by to start a new thread or something. You should be able to find it on my profile, I think, or you could probably search "The Ink Pot".

Summary of Previous Events: At the final battle, Hermione was hit with a memory curse, now suffering from amnesia. Severus found her time-turner; a curse hit him and gave him a second chance in life as a young man. He left the wizarding world, and found the young Gryffindor in Napa, now named Jane. They've become friends, and he has promised to help her and stay by her side. Every now and then, Severus receives letters of advice from Albus and Minerva. 

Recently, a misunderstanding hit them both, hard. The two have found friends in each other again...or is it more? When Jane comes to Severus with a problem in her hands, he realizes just how much his position in her life is worth.

Disclaimer: I own no characters, but all of the ideas (for once!) belong to me. As does the choppy writing…

* * *

He paused, unconsciously stopping his finger on its journey across the page. Not looking at the text anymore, his concentration held, nevertheless. He strained his ears. What had that been? It had sounded like a rather muffled thump, but not being able to discern it as anything of importance, he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination and looked back down at the book spread open on his lap. 

It was a few seconds later that he heard it again, although it sounded sharper, more hollow. Sure now that it wasn't something he'd imagined, he neatly shut the book, placing it on the stack of unused coasters beside him before pushing himself out of the chair towards the large window of the library. He fiddled with the bottom button of his untucked dress shirt, his gaze sweeping across the grounds. He frowned as his eye caught movement below him, disappearing among the trees of the orchard only to emerge from the other end. Almost as if they could feel his eyes on their figure, the intruder looked up. He sighed. Jane.

He watched her hurry across the large grounds, clasping a straw hat to her head. It fell; she bent to pick it up before hurrying again, her bushy hair flying behind her, her white summer dress whipping along her ankles. As she came closer, he shook his head, a small smile replacing the frown. When would she learn to use the front gate like any other person, rather than sneaking in? Forgetting about his book, he left the room, descending the stairs in bare feet covered with fluffy gray socks. He was listening to the rhythmic muffled thumps of his feet on the stairs when a sharp rap interrupted.

He looked up to see Jane already there, face flushed and hair as wild as ever. She didn't appear to see him through the tinted glass sliding door that she was now knocking upon again with renewed vigour, looking down at a dirty hem at the same time. Wincing for her knuckles and for the glass, he hurried to the kitchen, unlocking the door and sliding it open just as she raised her fist to knock again. Stepping in without a word, she stopped right in his way, pulling off her shoes and hat.

"Good morning to you as well. Just because this is the back door, I don't get any greeting?" He raised an eyebrow in amusement, but the other soon joined it at her reply.

"Leave off it, Severus. It's your fault that the fence isn't patched up anyway." She brushed past him and pulled out a chair, the legs scratching the floor with a series of high-pitched squeaks before she flopped upon it.

He rolled his eyes. Not this again. Jane had discovered a rather large, rotting plank in his fence, and had proceeded to prod at it. It had fallen over with little effort, revealing a hole large enough for someone to climb through. She had bugged him to fix it, and he'd fastened it to the larger plank running across the top with a nail, but she thought it was a poor job. He really had to agree, it just swung open on its small metal hinge, but he couldn't be bothered to make it better. There wasn't anyone to care about the hole, anyway. Well, besides her, that was.

Looking at her again, he could tell that wasn't the reason she seemed so disagreeable. Her upper body lay limp across the table, one arm under her chin while the other was sprawled across the table, and she was entertaining herself by blowing a fluffy strand of hair off her nose. He was silent for a moment, then decided to speak.

"What's wrong?"

She raised her chin, looking at him with barely hidden surprise before dropping her head back on the table's surface, her hair forming a curtain around her features. She mumbled something he couldn't hear, but didn't make any move to explain anything else. Crossing his arms, he leaned comfortably against the doorway, continuing to study her, not making a move to do anything either.

Moments passed by in silence. She shifted a bit in her seat, staring cross-eyed at the strand on her nose, then started fidgeting in an unsettled manner. Suddenly, she stood up, nearly knocking over her chair in her sudden spring.

"Will you stop staring at me?" It was loud, accusing.

He only continued to look at her, the corners of his lips lifting in a small, amused expression.

"Severus…" she growled, looking for all the world as if she would grab the table and fling it at his head. She engaged with him in a staring contest, but was the first to look away. "Just stop it!"

Sighing at her holler, he mentally shuffled through the memories of incidents in which he had dealt with an emotionally unstable female. Picking out the best situations, he walked over, carefully placing his hands on her shoulders. He faltered at her glare, but steeled his resolve.

"What is it? I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"It's nothing." She muttered, her voice giving away nothing.

"No, there is something." He was insistent, not about to give up. "Tell me. Please."

She stood there quietly, fiddling with her fingers, not meeting his eyes. Thinking that she might not have heard him, he opened his mouth to ask her again when she suddenly collapsed towards the spot where the chair had been. Twisting his body so that she fell against him, he exhaled sharply as he knocked over the chair, his side crashing against the table before scraping his arm and thigh against the leg of the overturned seat. He gritted his teeth, releasing the strangling grip he had unknowingly used to crush her against him. Pushing her away slightly, he swallowed before attempting in a shaking voice, "Are you okay?"

At any other time, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the question. She had run to him with an emotional problem in her hands, falling against him could hardly merit as a problem in this situation. However, she didn't seem to notice, only shaking her head before leaning closer to him. He sighed softly, holding her close and trying to ignore the pain searing up the left side of his torso. Stroking her hair, he comforted her quietly for awhile, feeling his shirt soak up her tears.

Gradually, she calmed down, turning her head to the side so she could breathe better. Raising one hand to brush the hair that was matted to her cheek, he took notice of her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Shifting her head so that it was nestled in the crook of his neck, she didn't seem to mind that his thumb was stroking her cheekbone, or drying the occasional tear that leaked from the corner of her eyes. Feeling that it was high time that he found out what was bugging her, he considered the best way to approach the situation.

"Jane?" he whispered. She didn't make any move to look at him, but he knew she was listening. "Let's go to the library and talk, okay?"

She gave a small nod before untangling herself from him. With his arm still around her, they slowly made their way up the stairs. She waited for him to clear off the space around them a bit before joining him on a single armchair. Curling up by his side (he winced, he'd have to take a look at that later), she fiddled with a button on his shirt. He stilled her hand with his own firmly. "What happened?"

She didn't appear to have cared enough to listen, but after a small moment, she began talking, her voice small in the rather large room.

"A few days ago…no, two maybe, I was taking a walk on the street across from the college. You know, the one with the confectionery and the small bookshop? It was just after class, and after a particularly boring lecture, I decided to stop at the local café before heading back to the apartment. It was just for a light snack, and I had no intent of staying there for a long time." She shrugged, and he felt the movement against his chest.

"I ordered a cream pastry and a cup of chocolate…I was staring out the window when the order came. I thanked the waiter and everything, and I was about to take a sip of the chocolate when something caught my eye. I don't even know what it was. Still don't. But it was like as soon as I saw it, it disappeared. I found out a few moments later that I was staring into the window of the bookshop…some little boy had his face pressed into the glass. It was a waste of money really…I threw almost all of the pastry away.

"For some reason, the bookstore was suddenly extremely appealing, and I kind of forgot that I was going to go back to my apartment and do my homework. The bookstore was always appealing to some inner sense, so naturally, I went in.

"They had a new section on display, and I decided to take a look. They were showcases of some new author…Laurie somebody or something of the sort. I flipped through some of them, they were modern day romance novels. The books didn't seem too interesting, but I flipped through some of them anyway. I could spare a few moments to catch an idea or two, couldn't I?"

Severus had been listening rather passively, an unusual thing because he usually couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough for someone to tell any kind of story. During most incidences, Jane had to tell him to just shut up and listen; this time, she seemed to be expecting an answer. Maybe she was unsettled by his silence. Maybe she just needed reassurance. Shifting a bit, he couldn't tell why it was so important that he voiced his opinion over something so trivial, but he nodded anyway. He continued listening as she resumed her halting speech.

"I was about to place the book back on the shelf when I realized that I had been reading something that…I don't know. I just couldn't take my eyes off of it. I should have just walked away, but I flipped back to that page, and started reading. It was unsettling, really…it was about some girl who had lost her memories or something like that. Like me. I flipped closer to the beginning…I think she lost it from a car accident. But what really bugged me was what I had read that first time. Her friends…they knew what happened to her and they never told her. She found out by overhearing them at a friend's house, and even when she asked, they didn't admit that they knew anything. It started driving her insane…nearly. She started hunting for answers everywhere in places she'd always assumed were just…there. I didn't read anymore, I didn't want to know what happened in the end.

"I didn't do my homework that night…I'm glad I didn't have classes the next day. The whole time, that story was burned into my mind. I kept on telling myself that it happened to a lot of people, this amnesia, and that the stupid author just took advantage of the situation, but…

"I moped around the whole night, just curled up on the bed or couch or something, I couldn't go to sleep. I got up the next morning, intending on forgetting about it…I nearly did. I think. It didn't come to me anymore, I was too engrossed in work. It came back last night, but I got sleep, eventually. But this morning…"

She trailed off. Somehow, her hand had found its way back up to the button. She was pulling on a loose thread, worrying her lip.

"Yes?" he prompted gently. She'd told him almost everything, she couldn't very well just stop at the end.

"It all just hit me. What if that was happening to me? No one ever mentioned that when they told me I might not fully recover…what if that's what they meant? Could they just not tell half-truths? Why does everyone insist on hiding everything from me?"

She was hysterical at this point, not leaning on him anymore. He stiffened, and was glad that she wasn't close enough to feel that. She'd found the one secret he'd been ignoring…he knew better than anything else that he was hiding pieces from her. Forcing himself to relax, he pulled her close again, the confined space keeping her arms from flailing and any other limbs from doing any further damage. She didn't know, but she had repeatedly hit his rapidly bruising side, and it wasn't doing anything to help at all. Feeling her warmth, he relaxed further, and he could feel her back muscles release their tension from beneath the circles he was rubbing on her back.

"Shh…" Gently shushing her, he wanted to tell her that it wasn't true, that no one was hiding anything from her. He would do anything to chase away that lost, frightened look, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that lie. After a heart wrenching moment of wallowing in self-hate, she felt her push herself away from him, a steely glint in her eyes.

"You know what?" He thought for a freezing moment that he'd been found out, that the secret was over. "You're right. I shouldn't mope about all of this. If it happens, it'll happen, and all I can do is to make sure that it doesn't happen too soon. Crying isn't going to help, although," she added thoughtfully, "talking to you sure did."

He blinked. He'd told her to stop moping? He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at her stubborn profile. Definitely Gryffindor, through and through. Reckless, foolish, brave Gryffindor. Minerva couldn't possibly be prouder.

* * *

The sun slowly set, promising another long sunny day tomorrow. They both sat in the small bar, the remnants of their dinner still sitting on the recently bought, rarely used dining table. Sipping at the last of the desert wine, they sat in comfortable silence, the faint sounds of outside activities enclosing the last bit of daylight left. 

"Thank you."

Severus looked up from the wineglass he was swirling in surprise. Returning his gaze to watch the ripples along the liquid's surface, he inquired, "What for?"

"For this. For everything." She replied simply.

"Could you please elaborate? Perhaps the wine has bemuddled my brains."

She smiled. "For the dinner. For letting me in…for letting me talk to you when I really needed it." She paused. "Thank you for all of it."

He let the words soak up awkwardly, but finally replied.

"You're welcome."

Looking up at the clock, he noted the time. Half past seven. At the same time, Jane stood up. "I really should be leaving…I haven't fed Ginger since this morning. She's probably yowling and wrecking furniture by now." She colored, from remembering the broken chair, he reflected. He said as much.

"I can replace it, really, I—"

"No need," he replied firmly, wincing as he got up stiffly from the stool. Spotting his features knotting in pain, she immediately dropped the subject.

"What is it? Are you hurt?" In her haste, she hit the very spot he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to touch until he soaked for a decent hour in hot water and braced himself enough to rub a salve over it. He gasped. "Gods woman, if I wasn't before, I am now!"

She flushed, her hands still next to his hip. "May I…?" She gestured towards his injured torso, careful that her hand was a safe distance away.

He was indecisive, not wanting to risk another jolting pain (after all, no one had ever deemed Gryffindors as careful), but he nodded reluctantly. If anything happened, he'd just give her as good as he got, he supposed. Not that he'd ever hit someone, of course.

Lifting the bottom half of his shirt, she glanced up at his face before inspecting his side. She gasped, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth.

"What is it? It can't possibly be that bad." He tried to look over the flap of white cloth that she held up, but when she let it go, she stilled his hand from lifting up his shirt.

"No. In fact, nothing can possibly look worse. It looks more like the table fell on you rather than the other way around." She pulled him up the stairs rather roughly, ignoring his protests.

"Stop! I can take care of myself! Let go, or I'm going to hit something again!"

"Then just make sure you don't! This is your house, after all!"

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to hit anything! In fact, I don't see what this has to do with it at all."

"Well, if this is your house, you should know your way around it well enough as to not run into walls…now where's the bathroom?"

"Right in front of you." Under his breath, he added, "Bloody woman. The edge of the staircase banister isn't as lethal as that arm you're waving about…"

"Sit," she ordered, pointing to the bed.

Fine, so she wanted to argue? He was going to give as good as he got. Or better. Besides, they were on his property, in his house, in his room.

"No." he replied, equally as commanding.

"Yes."

"No."

"Just sit down…do you want me to help you or not?"

He was going to retort that he'd never even wanted his help in the first place, but hastily complied at the dangerous, steely, glint in her eyes.

"Good. Now wait here and don't move." She turned to walk over to the bathroom. "And don't even think about getting away, Severus Snape."

He sighed, collapsing against the pillows in resignation. What could he do? He did not doubt her abilities to throttle him into oblivion, and he felt pain enough without such an experience. Propping himself on his elbow, he moodily picked at a loose end of a pillowcase. He wasn't feeling necessarily bad tempered, but he didn't like being ordered around either. Especially in his own room. He knew if he complained, he'd sound like a selfish child, but he wasn't sure what was more damaging, having her take care of him, or whining his way out of it. He didn't have much of a chance to dwell upon it, though, as she had sneaked up behind him and had just "accidentally" elbowed the back of his ribs just above his bruise; he yelped in surprise. He turned angrily, feeling pain once more as he landed rather heavily on his side.

"What is with you?"

She raised her eyebrow, but said nothing. Moving his arm, which was covering his injured side, she gently lifted up the edge of the shirt, grimacing as she spotted the bruised skin again.

"Is it really that horrible to look at?" he asked impatiently. "Stop making faces at me."

She laughed at his childish tone. "Just relax."

Still not able to see his side from his position on the bed, he had to be content with waiting until she left to take a peek. He felt her run her fingers gently over the bruised area, and he shivered in response, gritting his teeth. She didn't know he was ticklish, and he preferred to keep it that way.

The tension in his body began to drain away as she started to rub the sore spot. Only a dull pain remained as her fingers probed the bruise, leaving a trail of warmth from her hands that faded into a tingling cold. Probably from a cream, he mused lazily.

He had no idea how long he had been there, completely defenseless to her ministrations, when the bed tipped over slightly. Opening an eye that he hadn't known he'd closed, he was met with the sight of her concerned face.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Not answering for a moment, he stirred a bit. "Not at all. Quite the opposite."

She shook her head, bestowing upon him a small smile. He couldn't help but smile back.

"You know," he said, "you should take up massaging. I'd be the first person to recommend customers to you."

"Eww…no. I'd rather not touch someone's dirty skin, thank you. It would require me to touch their stinky feet too…" She made a wry face at the comment.

"And I'm an exception?"

"Of course."

Without warning, she lay down beside him, curling up at his side. She began playing with his hair, twirling it around her fingers, and watching the light play off the black strands. He watched her for a while, unnoticed.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence.

She answered without looking up. "Consider it as a debt repaid."

"There never was a debt."

She met his eyes, her inquiring gaze searching his face for answers. "How not? You've helped me more times than I could ever count."

"As have you." She might not know it, but just her presence alone had helped him to view life in quite a different perspective, and it meant a lot to him.

"If we both have lost count, I will suppose that I had one more to repay before I was equal with you."

He smiled. "I can't disagree with your logic, can I?"

"Of course not," she replied simply, closing her eyes and snuggling up to him.

The thoughts of the dirty dishes downstairs and of the yowling Ginger were the last before he drifted off to sleep, content with Hermione's warmth at his side.

* * *

Wait…wait! Don't say anything yet! I know I wrote Hermione instead of Jane, it's not a slip. Made to enforce the point, you know? It didn't seem quite fitting to screw in a hyperbole or to squish in alliteration… 

I need feedback…I'm starting to wonder what my brain's up to now.


	12. A Day In Paradise

I'm back! Sorry to those of you who thought that I'd given up on the story or something…I assure you, it won't happen! The ending I have planned out is just too good!

However, I do know it's been about five or six weeks since I updated. It's not because I've been extremely busy or something of the sort (although that applies to this past week), but more for the fact that my writing seemed to have left me. It took me almost two weeks to finally come up with an idea, but once I started writing it down, any style seemed to have left. I couldn't write or draw or anything for awhile, and I think after writing a piece of angst in the present-tense rather than the past-tense, I gained my skill again.

At least half of it, anyway. The story's even more choppy now than before, I think. I'm proud of my plot line, though.

Summary of Previous Events: At the final battle, Hermione was hit with a memory curse, now suffering from amnesia and calling herself Jane. Severus found her time-turner; a curse hit him and gave him a second chance in life as a young man. He left the wizarding world, and found the young Gryffindor in Napa, now named Jane. They've become friends, and he has promised to help her and stay by her side. Every now and then, Severus receives letters of advice from Albus and Minerva.

Recently, Jane had a reaction to the time-turner, and misjudging her questions, Severus left her, thinking that she didn't need him anymore. They've made amends, and have been growing closer together. Now that Severus's birthday has arrived and Jane has graduated, they've decided to celebrate.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters except for the woman in the jewelry shop. Neither do I own Monterey (it'd be nice to own a house there, though). However, I do own the plot, and since I don't know when Severus' birthday is, I made that up, so it's mine as well.

* * *

He sighed as he felt sweet unconsciousness let go of him, gradually becoming aware of what had started as a dull, far away ache becoming a nuisance in his neck. Shifting the arm that had been thrown on top of his head, he kneaded the muscle there, correcting the angle of his head before slowly cracking open an eyelid. It took him a moment to figure out the bright creamy walls, the starched sheets, and the warmth beside him and remember that he was in Monterey with Jane.

He blinked twice, reaching down to pull up the blanket so that he could burrow back under the covers for a while longer before meeting the fresh new day. Not finding any cloth but that of his silk pajama bottoms, he frowned, moving away from the warm spot his back had made to find that the young woman next to him had stolen all of the blankets. Indeed she had, curled up with them tucked under her chin, all of them pulled completely over her. How could she sleep like that? He had slept with half his torso exposed to the midsummer heat, while she seemed to be perfectly oblivious to any extra warmth that her cocoon baked her in. Taking what little cover he could, he shifted so that he was molded against the warmth from her back.

Severus let his thoughts wander as he blew away a piece of her frizzy hair from where it tickled his nose. He had planned a small getaway as a graduation present to Jane, planning with immaculate precision only to have them scrambled when he heard she'd gotten top honors and realizing that a simple trip wasn't good enough. She, in turn, had planned a small birthday getaway for him, and once she had mentioned her own thoughts, they combined both of their ideas as a double celebration.

Both of them had thought Monterey to be a good idea, Severus for the scenery and Jane for the ocean and beaches. It had been many, many years since he had last seen the sea, and seeing it yesterday as they neared the hotel in Jane's car had been refreshing. He smiled as he remembered her enthusiastic responses as they toured 17-Mile Drive, watching the birds, squirrels, and seals with zeal. After, they had spent a leisurely evening dining at a quiet seafood restaurant and strolling through a nearby art museum, murmuring over various techniques and presentations. It was still early in the night when they had chosen to retire, both falling asleep, filled with comfort and contentment.

He was dozing lazily when he felt her shift against his leg. Opening his eyes, he bit his lip in amusement as she made a grand show of waking up, yawning, mumbling, and stretching for a good minute before turning around to meet his gaze.

"Morning." She yawned again, stretching the end of the word.

"Good morning." He studied her as she closed her eyes again to burrow into her pillow, pulling more of the covers away from him. "Are you going to sleep the whole day away?"

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea, actually."

"Come on, what else do you want to do besides sleep the rest of the day? As relaxing as this is, I thought we might take a look around while we had the chance."

"What about breakfast in bed?" Her voice came out muffled as she wiggled further beneath the covers.

"I'd say Brunch would be the correct term."

Immediately, her head shot out from her nest of blankets. "Brunch?"

"It's 10:30."

With agility that shouldn't have been present in someone who had been asleep half a minute ago, she jumped out of bed, pulling one arm out of the cami she wore as she reached for the handle of the wardrobe. "10:30! I've never woken up this late…wasted half the day already. I slept so early too; it's not like I did anything yesterday. Why didn't you wake me up, Severus?" She continued to mumble to herself, shooting random comments at the man in bed every now and then.

"I didn't know it bothered you so much. Besides, didn't you want to stay in bed?"

"I thought it was seven!"

"It's not this bright at—"

"Ouch! Oww…"

He watched her struggle to pull her top off for a moment before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and padding silently across the floor behind her. "Need help?"

She squeaked in surprise, trying to find a hole in the shirt that she could see him through. "Severus!"

Quickly undoing the knot of hair that had worked itself around the strap of her shirt, he plucked it off her head, revealing her in just her bra. Reaching past her to grab his clothes as if seeing her half naked was normal , he made his way to the bathroom. "I'll leave you here to change in privacy. Be careful that that unruly hair of yours doesn't get stuck again, I'm not coming out to help you half dressed myself."

He heard her seething behind the closed door as he quickly cleaned himself, checking that he was presentable before peeking out of the bathroom. "Dressed?"

She didn't reply, instead throwing open the door and marching past him. He barely made it out of the way before the door slammed in his face. "Touche," he called.

Immediately the door was flung open once more, revealing a livid Jane. "Say that one more time," she ground out between gritted teeth, "and you'll never have felt more pain in your life." She twitched, then slammed the door once more.

* * *

Severus took in a deep breath of the salty air, letting the warmth of the midmorning sun soak through his skin as he jammed his hands into his pockets. Beside him, Jane peered around the passerby as she glanced through the windows of the shops. Smoothing back a loose strand of honey-colored hair that had been blown from its loose clip at the nape of her neck, she paused to study the glass ornaments on display. He watched wonder play across her face from her reflection in the window as she gazed at a miniature glass cello.

"Shall we go in?" he asked after a moment.

Slightly startled, she turned to look at him, sheepish. "Just to look, I guess."

Pushing open the door with a slight tinkle from the bell tied to the handle, he held the door open for her before entering himself. In the quiet, both of them wove their way between stands and cases of crystal and glass objects, the faceted pieces reflecting small rainbows of color on the wall. On the case to the right, small glass animals with gems as eyes watched playfully, and to the front, necklaces and anklets hung delicately from their chains, lightly spinning whenever the smallest current caressed them, sparkling in the light.

"Aren't they beautiful?"

Severus was about to whisper back a reply when a somewhat fuller voice floated over from behind them. "Have you found anything you like? Those pendants are made of the finest glass, set with immense precision and carved with immaculate detail. They do sparkle so beautifully, don't they?"

An elderly, kind looking woman stood there, her hands clasped together at her midriff. She smiled gently, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a motherly fashion.

"Oh, they are beautiful," Jane replied hastily, "but we're just looking around."

The kind woman's smile did not lose any of its softness. "Of course. If you have any questions, please, feel free to ask."

Both of them nodded, and she stepped away to rearrange a display in the corner.

"Oh, they are so pretty, but they're so expensive at the same time! But there's no reason to waste money on a trinket when I don't need it, no matter how nice they may be."

With that, she resolutely dragged a bewildered Severus out the door, stopping to give the saleswoman a smile and a "Good-bye!" before the door shut behind them. He rubbed his arm ruefully.

"Why, may I ask, did you have to drag me out?"

"I told you, they were too expensive. Besides, just seeing them there was tempting."

"And so we just had to leave like that? For two completely self-centered reasons?"

"Well, that and the fact that I had just spotted a bookstore across the street…" she smiled slyly.

'This woman knows me too well,' he thought. Aloud, he said, "I suppose a bit of time pursuing knowledge isn't a waste of time. Or money," he added, remembering her comment about how expensive the glass pieces had been.

"Of course not."

Following the crowd of people making their way across the road, they untangled themselves from the main throng heading off to the candy shop just ahead to enter the double doors of the bookstore. Almost immediately, Jane turned to where he guessed the mystery section was, while he set off at a more decent pace to the display of new books. Picking up one titled "Small Avalanches and Other Short Stories", he flipped through for a moment before deciding it wasn't his type, setting it down to pick up another one that had caught his eye.

How long he had roamed the middle five tables he didn't know, until he heard Jane's voice right next to his ear. "Interesting?"

Shutting the book, he replied, "Not quite. There's got to be more things to do with paint than experimenting with their hues on a piece of canvas."

"Like painting an actual picture?"

"Exactly."

Somehow having found silent agreement to leave, they both turned towards the door.

"What time is it?"

"Mmm…almost 12:30. Why?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure I didn't spend five hours inside like I did last time."

"Five hours? Straight?" She sounded amused.

"I was so absorbed that I finished reading the entire book before I left the store. Didn't have to spend any money after all."

She shook her head, tucking another loose strand behind her ear as the wind began blowing again. Abruptly changing the topic, she asked, "Does ice cream sound appealing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It depends. Why?"

"Oh, because we just passed by a creamery, and seeing as it's rather warm, I thought a spot of cold sweets would do some good."

"A bit of fat and cream wouldn't be too bad, I suppose."

"Great," she beamed. Turning around, she headed back to the store, not waiting to see if he followed. He briefly wondered how everything seemed to pop out at Jane while everything seemed like a blur of tourists to him. The thoughts dispelled when he stepped into the shop of sweets, the noise of squealing children and giggling girls hitting him like a wall. Almost immediately, he regretted coming in. Scanning over the crowd, he spotted Jane at the end of the line, studying the large chart of flavors on the wall behind the counter. He made his way through the throng of people and reached her side.

"See anything you like?"

"Hmm? Oh, well, maybe the strawberry…I haven't had green tea ice cream in such a long time though. Bubble gum would be a good treat…maybe I'll go for some kind of chocolate…"

He sighed mentally. At least her ramblings could keep him company as they waited for the line to creep towards the counter.

An hour later found them enjoying their frozen treats on one of the tables at the front of the ice cream shop. Jane had finally settled on a strawberry flavored ice cream, small chips of dark and white chocolate sprinkled throughout. He himself was savoring a spoonful of mocha and chocolate, rich and creamy.

"I can't believe we actually waited 90 minutes in that line…I don't think I've ever waited that long for anything in my life," he muttered as he dug another spoonful from the paper cup.

"Obviously this place's popular, and besides, I think it was worth it. How's yours?" she gestured to his halfway eaten ice cream with a careless flick of her spoon, sending droplets of the sticky stuff flying.

"I can say that I'm enjoying it more than you are if you're going to put the ice cream on your spoon just to throw it around."

She ignored the comment, leaning forward to take a scoop of his. "May I?"

"So you can waste mine as well?" She gave him a 'oh, seriously,' look until he nudged the paper cup closer to her, and she happily took a large chunk, placing the entire thing in her mouth at once. He winced. "Don't you get brain freeze?"

She scooped out an equally large chunk from her own. "From ice cream? Never. The stuff's just that good."

As if to confirm it, she tackled the rest of her treat voraciously, finishing her own long before Severus even scraped the bottom of his.

* * *

"Okay, now where to?" A fresh breeze had picked up, disrupting the mid-afternoon warmth.

He sat back, fiddling with the tiny plastic spoon. "I don't know. Anywhere particular you want to go?"

"Not really."

He studied her for a moment, eyes lidded. "I know of a nice jewelry shop down the block."

Immediately, her head snapped up, but then the bright look on her face dimmed. "I'm not going there just to look at the expensive price tags."

"Nonsense. Tell me if you find anything you like."

She looked at him skeptically. "You're not buying me anything."

He stood up, his chair scraping the surface of the sidewalk. "Consider it a graduation present."

"But," she protested, following him as he strode past the pedestrians on either side, "this trip's more than enough!"

"Not if it's a joint celebration, it's not. You paid for half of it, as did I. What kind of gift is that? That's more like a shared…vacation of sorts."

"Severus, you don't have to—"

He pushed open the door to the shop resolutely. "In."

She tried to look reluctant, but failed. What girl wasn't influenced by jewelry of sorts? Shiny stuff was meant to be appealing. He followed her in, letting his gaze run over the various necklaces, earrings, and bracelets on display. Now to find something. Giving her a final glance to reassure himself that she wasn't watching, he started at the opposite end of the store, studying the jewelry in front of him.

He grimaced at the overly large pendants sitting in the case to his left. Some were turquoise, some of amber, but all were over an inch wide and two inches tall. Passing them by, he decided not to buy her a necklace of any sort. The only kind he'd ever seen her wear was a fine chain with a pendant so small it was like she'd rather not have worn it.

On the rack nearby, bracelets of different colors and stones hung. He fingered the chains, examining them, eliminating some colors while remembering others. All too common were links of dolphins and hearts, and he chanced upon one of tiger's eye, shaped into small triangles and outlined in gold and silver. Placing it on the edge of the rack in case he decided to buy it, he moved on.

Rings. There was no way he was going to buy her a ring, just in case it seemed like he'd tried to find a last minute cheap engagement ring or something…he shook his head. He was much more of a gentleman if it ever came to that. Besides, he reasoned, he didn't know her ring size anyway.

As he examined chains of fine golds and silvers, gems of increasing sizes, he realized with embarrassment he was studying the jewels like they were potions. A good grade on that one, that one was horrid, almost perfect…but just like he rarely ever could find one that matched his expectations; none of the pieces seemed perfect. He frowned as he made a full circuit of the store. Jane, he noticed, had somehow only been a third of the way through it all.

He headed back towards the bracelet he had found earlier. Holding it up, he confirmed it as a good gift, and gingerly lifted the paper price tag to look at the cost: $68. Almost bordering expensive, but he hoped it'd be worth it.

Severus watched in amusement as Jane quickly passed the large pendants that he had first seen. He'd been right about her tastes on that subject, he supposed. Standing behind her shoulder, he unraveled the chain in front of her.

"Find anything yet?"

"I—Oh!" she stared at the bracelet, then lifted her hand to study it. "I was going to say no, but I think the answer's a bit different now."

"So I'll take it as an "I want it", then?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but immediately her face turned to one of dismay. "$70? I said no to a gift, Severus, and I meant it. Maybe something small, but not this!"

He remained just as stubborn as her, staring her down.

"Fine," she sighed, chewing her lip. "But you have to allow me to get you something as well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

She continued chewing her lip. "I don't know…it seems strange that I don't know what you want." Her eyes refocused on him. "So you tell me."

"No." A smile tugged at the ends of his lips.

"Yes," she insisted.

"You figure it out yourself. After all, it's a gift, right?"

"Please? Come on, or else I won't let you buy the bracelet for me."

"How are you going to stop me?"

"I don't have to accept it."

He laughed. "There's too much good in your heart to not accept something someone gives you. You know that just as well as I do."

"But—"

"No buts."

He nearly gave up when he saw the dejected look on her face, but stayed adamant. "You can make it up to me later, okay?"

She gave him a small smile. "Okay."

* * *

He allowed himself to give a satisfied sigh, stretching a bit. Jane was silhouetted besides him, her hair whipping in the direction of the wind. She was barefoot, her shoes in one hand as she bent down every once in a while to pick up a seashell from the sand. The sun disappeared rapidly behind the horizon, tinting the sky in hues and shades of red. After a dinner of mussels and pasta coated in tomato sauce, he felt content to end the day on the beach. Jane had insisted on paying for the meal, and not wanting to argue, he'd let her. Still, it didn't feel like life could get any better.

He stared up at the sky, small wisps of clouds swirling above. It reminded him, unbidden, of the blood coating the grass, bodies and smoke everywhere...blinking, he pushed away the thoughts and memories, concentrating on the present. Ruining the evening by simple memories seemed like a whole vacation thrown away.

"Look."

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice behind him. Turning, he saw Jane holding up a shell, squinting through it. Looking at him, she dropped her shoes in the sand, carefully placing her collection of shells in a neat pile beside them before walking over to him.

"Stay right there." Standing in front of him, she angled the shell a bit, then moved out of the way, holding the shell steady. "Do you see it?"

He bent down a little bit, then blinked. Whatever he'd expected to see, it certainly hadn't been this.

From where he was standing, he could see through a small hole something had bored through the shell. It was like a small window, and he nearly missed the last rays of the sun throwing its rays through the opening, causing a shattering brilliance of beauty he'd somehow missed in every other sunset. Blinking once more to get rid of the dark spots in his eyes, he took the shell from her hand, flipping it over in his fingers. The razor-sharp edges formed a kind of heart, pale pinks and ambers streaked horizontally as the ridges descended in the opposite direction. He looked back at her.

"That was…beautiful," he breathed.

She beamed at him, then stood on tip-toe to give him a small peck on the cheek.

Indeed, the day couldn't have been better.

* * *

Wow, that was the longest in a while, I think. Or maybe it's just because there's a lot of dialogue. I think the ending was sweet, even if the rest was kind of choppy. I know there wasn't too much imagery, but I spent forever on some piece trying to, and I think my imagery's been used up for a while. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to commentary!

I promise to try and update as soon as possible!


	13. Trusting You I

Okay, this time, I'm not going to put a chapter summary…I might just stop. It seems so repetitive.

Sorry for the long time between updates. As I've said before, multiple times, I'm starting to run out of connecting ideas. However, I had time over spring break at Bryce and Zion Canyons to think about it, and since this week is state testing, I got it done. This chapter's a bit longer than the others (so much for not having an idea!) but a lot of it's dialogue, so…

Without further ado, Napa Valley, Severus, and Jane (well, kinda) don't belong to me.

* * *

It was nothing short of what one could consider the ideal day in Napa Valley. The air was crisp and fresh, stirred lightly by a soft whisper that was hardly a breeze. The birds called happily, their cheerfulness welcoming yet another sunny day.

It was in the middle of all this that Severus relaxed, taking in the outdoors. He reclined in the tiny pagoda at the edge of his garden, gazing at the book in front of him. The small text was perched on the inside of his thigh, where it faced upward from the angle of his leg propped against his other knee. Flipping the page, his eyes continued sweeping its contents when a dull, muted roar of a car engine disturbed the natural peace.

It wasn't that he never heard cars pass by (he lived next to the road, after all), but the fact that the car didn't seem to have passed by like every other car did. It was enough to rouse his curiosity from its lazy state. Pushing himself up, he walked over to the front gate just as the engine shut off. He watched Jane climb out of her car before pushing the gates open. Something tinted tan and white bounded out just before the door closed.

"Need any help?" He gestured towards the bag she carried as she shrugged her purse over her shoulder, nearly tripping over the cat winding about her feet.

"I've got it," she replied, deftly locking the car before coming in. The gate shut behind her and Ginger with a metallic clink as Severus fell into step beside her.

"Out of all the days to come in a car, today is hardly one of them. It's warm and sunny again."

"Oh, I know." She gave him a wry smile. "I had to drop off a friend somewhere and I was driving back when I decided to make a stop."

He highly doubted she'd just 'decided' to come by, but only nodded, opening the front door to let them in. Ginger stalked in, greeting Severus with a brush of her tail before following her owner down the hall. With a grateful sigh, Jane dropped the bag onto the kitchen counter, patting her pet before reaching into the paper sack.

"I brought some leftover cake that I baked yesterday. Do you want any?" She pulled out a plastic container, surveying its contents before placing it down on the counter as well.

"Cake? Have you ever known me to decline cake?"

She paused. "Well…no."

He smirked at her answer, then turned to reach for two of his nicer plates. "What was the cake for? Special occasion?"

"No. After seeing the tempting box of cake mix in my pantry, I couldn't resist the urge to bake something nice, complete with fresh fruit and cream. I shared half of it with a few neighbors yesterday."

Setting down a few forks as well as a knife, he pried open the container, taking an appreciative whiff of the dessert. He served out two portions, sliding Jane's across the table before picking up his fork to shovel an unhealthy chunk into his mouth.

"Mmm…" he muttered around the mouthful of sweet bread and frosting. "Beautiful. The fruit's bruised, though."

"What do you expect? I told you it was leftover." She took a bite of her own slice.

"Nice to know I'm appreciated."

It didn't take very long for any remaining cake to disappear. Severus watched from behind his empty plate as Jane used her finger to nudge the last crumbs on her fork.

"Done?"

He startled her, causing her to spill the crumbs back on the plate. She looked disgruntled.

"No." She tipped the last bit in her mouth and swallowed. "Now I am."

He couldn't help the warm, fuzzy feeling that went through him. Quickly hiding a smile, he turned to place the dishes in the sink. He had just turned on the faucet when he heard Jane's voice from another room.

"Severus?"

"Yes?" he called back. He heard her hesitate.

"Oh…it's nothing."

Turning back to rinsing the plates, he barely heard the sharp thud of the keyboard cover falling open. A moment later, a single clear note rang through the house. Dropping the last fork on the drying rack, he turned off the faucet and headed off to the room where he knew she'd be.

Rounding the corner, he leaned against the doorframe, watching Jane run her fingers over the white and black keys. One hand leaned against the open keyboard cover as she leaned past the bench to rest her weight against the piano. She stood like that for a long time, trailing her fingertips as if reacquainting herself with an old friend. It was this way that her form caught the light, a graceful silhouette. Her long hair, kept down, fell in waves, caressed by the light filtering through the thin curtains. The gold outlined her solemn posture, and when she finally moved, her form caused his breath to catch in his throat.

Shifting, she moved around the bench so that one leg was over the bench. Settling down slowly, she kept her gaze glued to the keyboard, but made no move to remove the hands that were nestled in her lap.

"Do you play?" Severus' voice carried over the silence.

She didn't move, as if she had known all along that he was standing there, silently watching her.

"No. Yes…not really."

He continued to survey her, then pushed himself from his position on the doorframe. He walked over until he was directly behind her, only an intimate space between them.

"Not really?" he asked quietly.

"I play clarinet," she replied equally as softly. "But while learning, its inevitable to learn a bit about piano."

He was intrigued, but kept his voice low in fear of breaking the quiet. "How long?"

"I…don't know. I never thought I'd played any instrument, but…" she trailed off, then turned, meeting his eye. "Would it sound strange if I were to tell you that I already knew how to play? As in picking it up and knowing it?"

"Not under your circumstances, no." Inwardly, he winced at how the words came out, but never took his eyes from her.

"Do you play?"

He blinked.

"No." He quickly dismissed the idea. "This piano was just something passed down in the family, that's all."

She turned back toward the keys, running her fingers along them again before settling her fingers on a choice few. Slowly pressing one down, she let the sound resonate in the room. Then, she reached for another key, tapping it as well. She winced.

"You need this tuned."

He listened to the ringing echoes, then reached over her shoulder and hit a key of his own. The notes vibrated against each other in waves. Wordlessly, he slid beside her on the bench.

"It'll just get out of tune again."

She didn't disagree. "That'd be a pity."

He thought for a moment. "Of course, if you'd play it every once in a while, it could be well worth the effort." He gave her a sidelong glance from the side of his eye, catching her startled look at the comment.

"But I told you, I can't—"

He reached out his own fingers to cover her hand, silencing her.

"What about your clarinet?"

"You want me to bring it next time?" She leaned back a bit to give him a skeptical look, but didn't pull her hand away.

"Of course."

It was silent for a moment, the two of them staring at their hands clasped over the instrument. He spotted a glint of sunlight on her wrist.

"You're wearing the bracelet I gave you." The statement was tinged with surprise.

She smiled, turning her wrist a bit so that the stones and metals sparkled. "It's hard to put away."

He watched the light play off the intricate piece of jewelry in silent agreement. Indeed, it did look beautiful on her wrist. He opened his mouth to say something when a blur beside him caught his eye.

He turned to see a golden tail before it disappeared underneath the bench. In the next moment, a pair of light green eyes stared up at him.

"I've just found a rather obtrusive cat that I believe belongs to you." He reached down to pick up Ginger, but she slid out of his grasp.

"Ginger," Jane cooed, "Come here, little kitty."

At the sound of her name, the feline jumped on the edge of the bench. The cat stopped halfway across on Severus' lap, kneading his skin with her claws before bumping Jane with her head.

"You want some attention, don't you?" Jane didn't stop scratching her pet's neck as she addressed Severus. "Where do you suppose she's been all this time?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Jumping on my furniture, perhaps?"

Jane laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound that mingled with Ginger's velvety purring. "No she wouldn't, would you, kitty?"

The only response was for the cat to close her eyes under Jane's ministrations. Severus stood up.

"Perhaps I should go check."

"I'm sure—"

Jane was about to protest when Ginger shot off her lap. Severus heard her gasp of surprise before feeling the cat's small body brush by his ankle and disappear.

"Sure about what? That nothing happened at your kitty's destructive paws?" he asked dryly.

"No, actually, I'm sure we're in for a kitty chase."

With vigour, Jane jumped off the bench, dashing into the hallway. Severus groaned at the thought of having to run after a cat, in a house, no less. He peeked out, only to have to whip his head back in before being bowled over by the passing blurs. An idea coming to mind, an evil grin spread across his face before he inched out to the kitchen.

He rummaged through the cupboards a bit, keeping an ear out for any sounds of destruction upstairs, where the chase was being carried out. Finding a tempting morsel, he placed it right outside the open glass sliding door, in plain view. Leaning against the counter, he waited, staring down the hallway in anticipation.

Certainly enough, the next time Ginger passed the kitchen, she stopped, sniffing the air. She turned to stare suspiciously at Severus before heading towards the morsel, sniffing the air. She nudged it gently, then delicately picked up the crumb and swallowed it. Jane nearly passed by, skidding to a halt.

"Ginger!" she called, slightly out of breath.

At her name, the cat dashed away again. Jane paused to get her bearings and noticed Severus standing aside.

"You could have caught her!" she cried out in exasperation.

He smirked. "What's the rush? It'd be more fun outside, no?"

With a growl of frustration, she ran past, grabbing his arm and pulling him out with her.

"Urgh, that naughty cat…" she muttered under her breath. "I—"

"Perhaps," Severus interrupted, all the while trying to extract his arm from her grip, "She's up in that tree?"

Jane looked up, following Severus' gaze just in time to see a tan and white bottom disappear. In the next moment, Jane was gone, and the chase was resumed again.

Severus watched on the patio as the two figures ran about, frolicking in the garden. It lasted for about two minutes before Jane trudged back, winded.

"She's in a tree…I can't reach her."

He couldn't have cared less about the animal. "Then just leave her there. It's not like she can't get down herself, after all."

Jane stared at him for a moment, then reached out to swat his arm. "You're it!"

He blinked at the sudden change in mood. She dodged his hand as he reached out to grab her, dashing away to the trees at his right. He smirked. Two could play at this game.

"You won't beat me at this!" he called as he sped after her.

"How so?" she called back over her shoulder.

"For many reasons. One," he cut her path around a tree, "I've got longer legs. Two," he pulled her hair, "you're tired. I'm not. Still think you can win?"

She turned to chase him down as he pivoted away, sharply turning to step into one of the smaller paths. Sometimes, he'd stop just to tease her, but every time she reached out, she'd only catch thin air as he hid behind a tree or leapt over a rock.

Well, most every time.

"Gotcha! You're it!"

She stuck out her tongue at him as she ran off again, triumphant. With a sigh, he set off again.

They indulged in the game well beyond noon, taking turns chasing and being chased. As the sun rose to its highest, Severus peeled off his light coat, glad for the light breeze.

"Don't you think—" he managed to gasp out. Jane crashed into him, knocking out whatever air was left inside his lungs as they both hit the ground. He pushed himself up on one elbow, trying to catch his breath.

"What was that for?"

She looked at him from her bed in the grass, her hair a bushy mass around her head. She lazily twirled a lock around her finger.

"You're it now, of course."

He tugged the lock of hair away from her finger. "You're it."

"_You're_ it."

They slapped each other lightly back and forth until Jane suddenly launched herself at him with tickles. He twitched, but showed no other signs of being bothered.

"I'm not ticklish," he managed to say with a straight face.

"No fair." She collapsed on his chest, arms beneath her chin as she blew at the strands of hair in front of her face. He watched her for a bit, the bouncing curl mesmerizing him. Without preamble, she suddenly announced, "I think that's the most fun I've ever had in my whole life."

"You think? Then you'd better think again."

Rolling her over, he began tickling her in turn. She giggled helplessly, trying to wriggle away.

"Severus…stop! Pl…please stop!"

"No way. This is way too much fun." He attacked her relentlessly with a barrage of tickles until she started coughing for air.

"Are you okay?"

She tried to glare at him, but broke into another fit of giggles, which resulted in more coughs. When she finally could, she answered.

"Yes…just don't tickle me again."

He complied, falling down beside her so that both of them were gazing at the sky. Jane raised her arm to point at something above them.

"Look."

He watched the clouds being buffeted along the blue expanse of sky, the fluffy white shapes becoming objects in his imagination. His eye caught the one she pointed to.

"A heart."

"Isn't it so pretty?"

"I suppose, if you don't connect it to the mass right there. Then it looks like the tail of a dead fish."

"Thanks for ruining the image."

"It's my pleasure."

It was silent for a moment. "I suppose the fish does belong there, though."

Severus angled his head so that he could see her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you think about it, the sky is the ocean. The fish is swimming, see? As the wind blows, it floats away. Like anything else that dies, it eventually floats away until it's not there anymore."

Severus considered her words, thinking back to his own memories. Was it true? Certainly, he had moved on.

"I never thought of it that way," he finally said.

She shrugged, still watching the sky. "Just a thought."

He opened his mouth to reassure her that it was more than just a sudden thought when a sudden, forceful thought of his own occurred to him.

Why had she said that? Had she lost someone? Maybe she wasn't talking about death. Was she referring to her memories? He continued staring hard at her until she uttered a single word.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just…"

"Is there something on my face?" She turned her head to look at him, her breath brushing lightly against his chin, not in an unpleasant way.

"Why did you say that? Just now?" he asked softly.

A confused look crossed her features.

"About everything…passing away. Floating away until it isn't there anymore."

"I…I don't know."

He watched her carefully.

"What?" she asked, innocently bewildered.

"Just—" he broke off. He sighed, dismissing the thought. "Nevermind.

"No," she insisted. "Tell me."

He refused.

"But you always make me tell you what's bugging me."

"So?"

"I want to return the favor," she replied simply.

He turned his face back up so that her breath caressed his neck, so he didn't have to see the pleading look on her face.

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?" she continued pressing him for answers.

He thought for a moment. Why not? Why wouldn't he tell her? The truth? He was scared of hurting her, scared of making the wrong assumption, of the wrong conclusions. He was scared of learning too much.

He was scared of finding the answer.

He settled from an answer not too far from the truth. "I don't want to know the answer anymore, okay?"

"It scares you, doesn't it?" She didn't paused to want for an answer. "Funny, I never thought you to be scared of anything."

He turned to meet her eyes again. He could feel her eyes boring into his own.

"Everyone is scared of something."

"I know. Like my memories. It's just that, well, when someone seems like they're not scared of anything, it's easier to think that they can protect you from anything."

He wanted to tell her that he couldn't protect her. How could he? Wasn't he just putting her in danger, hiding her memories? His eyes gentled at the evident faith in her eyes. He pulled her close.

"You believed I could protect you?"

"Yes. And I still do." Her voice was muffled.

"Why?"

She pulled away so that she could look at him. Her eyes were serious.

"I trust you."


	14. Trusting You II

Yes! I got up this chapter in two weeks! It's a bit short because I can't really make the idea longer without adding a whole new event, but I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, or their personalities.

* * *

_I trust you._

Even now, at 2 am in the morning, the thought still lingered. It had clung to his mind throughout their late lunch and the rest of the afternoon. Seeing her leave did nothing to abate the constant nagging in his mind.

'How can she trust me? Me, her ex-professor, the snarky git who could never resist poking fun at her eager brain and diligence. But then, she doesn't really know me anymore, does she?' he added belatedly. Of course not. She remembered nothing of him.

He pushed himself up to plump his pillow violently, punching it a few extra times for added fluffiness. He sounded as if he viewed her as a potential lover. Disgusted with himself, he turned so that he was facing the ceiling.

Not that anyone could ever think _he_ was potential lover material. Even with the time turner incident and all the complications of finally accepting his more youthful appearance, he knew for a fact that he didn't look any more handsome. He never was one of the pretty boys.

Unless he smiled, he supposed. Wasn't that supposed to make anyone look better?

Urgh. Him, smiling. What a thought, so early in the morning.

He kicked at the twisted covers around his legs. He most certainly did not feel like smiling right now.

Absently, he picked at a loose thread on the waistband of his pants. She could make him smile, he thought. She did it a lot. It was a bit difficult to resist the pressure that made the corners of his lips twitch when she beamed at him.

He growled. Bloody woman.

"You don't look too happy."

Severus snorted at Jane's observation. "Thank you for stating the obvious."

She had come by extremely early, ruining any chances of actually getting any sleep at all. It didn't help that she was so perky. Why was she so damn happy, anyway? Her bright, radiant face should have been illegal at nine in the morning.

"Oh, come on. It's not so early. What is it with you and the mornings?"

Severus only wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, looking sullenly at the dark, steaming contents. She sighed at his lack of response, taking her own cup of decaf so she could watch him from the opposite side of the table. It was silent, broken only by her silent sips of her beverage. Severus jumped when she suddenly slammed her mug onto the table. She planted her hands firmly on the wooden surface.

"What's wrong with you? I asked you yesterday to tell me what was bugging you then, and you wouldn't. Now you won't either. I trust you, why don't you trust me?"

Those words again. Severus was honestly confused. Why did she keep saying it?

"I do. Trust you , I mean."

"Well, it sure doesn't seem like it. Why don't you tell me what's bugging you?" She looked up in exasperation, as if seeking patience from the ceiling, the lowered her gaze back to him with a steely glint in her eye. "Okay, you know what?"

"What?"

She glared at him for interrupting. "That was a rhetorical question."

He waved her on.

"It's too early for this. If you're not going to be good company, I'm leaving."

He rubbed at his face with the palm of his hand. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated warily.

She settled back into her seat, muttering something about men. "Honestly."

He shuffled over to the sink, dumping his coffee. He wasn't feeling up to the caffeine rush this morning, he decided.

"I'm gonna go shower." Damn, he was so tired that his words slurred together. They never did that; he was always precisely articulate with his syllables. "I'll be back down in an hour or so."

He headed up the stairs, thinking of the icy needles pouring from the showerhead and waking him up. He paused at Jane's small interruption.

"Do you need me to do anything?"

"No. Just…enjoy yourself outside or whatever."

Stripping so that a trail of clothes led from the bedroom to the bathroom, he climbed into the shower. His head rested against the cool tiles as he watched the rivulets of water chase each other down.

Why was he so tired? Insomnia had never affected him this way before, even in the long term. Shivering, he turned the water until it was nearly at its maximum heat level. Rubbing his arms, he gave up on trying to warm up in the sauna that had evolved around him. He pulled away the shower curtain and blinked.

Where his trail of clothes had been, only the clean floor tiles remained. He spotted his pajamas hanging from the back of the door and frowned. Where had they come from? He was certain he had left them lying on the bed earlier.

Feeling embarrassed that Jane might have walked in on him showering, he scrubbed at his cheeks with the fluffy white towel (that now felt like sandpaper) before slipping into his bedclothes. Silently opening the door, he padded out into the hallway. It was silent downstairs.

Flopping onto his bed, he sighed. He stared at nothing for awhile and was about to get up and find Jane when said person popped up at the door.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was anxious.

He propped himself on his elbows. "I suppose. Why?"

She gave him a suspicious look that assessed him, then walked in.

"Do you have a fever?"

He grumbled something unintelligible in response. She sighed, then gently pushed his shoulders back onto the bed. She said nothing as she left down the hall. A moment, her voice floated over.

"Where do you keep the medicine in this house?"

He fiddled with the corner of a pillowcase. "I don't really keep any."

He could have sworn that he heard her sigh again. Collapsing back onto the bed, he closed his eyes, his ears following her around the house.

Her bare feet padded down the wooden staircase then seemed to disappear in the thick carpet of the hallway until they hit the hard floorboards of the kitchen. He could hear her shuffling around, the clunk of a mug and the rush of the faucet. A kettle bounced a bit on the stovetop. The whispering of cloth and paper, then the scrape of a chair. He listened closely as the minutes stretched by. Suddenly, the kettle whistled and hummed, and the chair legs scraped the floor again. He heard a gurgle, then the metallic clank of the stove once more. Hearing her climb back up, her steps more cautious this time, he cracked open and eyelid.

"Tea?"

She nodded, reaching for a piece of paper. Placing the mug of hot liquid down, she folded the sheet into a makeshift coaster, then inserted it between the base of the cup and the tabletop.

"Let it cool down a bit. It's still hot."

His lip quirked up at her evident concern. As if he didn't know that something right off the stove could burn, he thought. Still, it was nice to have someone worry and fuss, if only a bit.

The bed dipped as she hesitantly perched on the edge. Feeling tired once more, he shifted a bit, then closed his eyes again. The pleasant aroma of tea wafted over, and he nearly drifted to sleep when a sudden thought came to him. He didn't open his eyes as the comment left his lips.

"Are you bored?" he murmured.

"No." He felt a cool hand brush his forehead. "Just rest."

Sweet oblivion overcame his senses and enveloped him.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the room was cool and dim. He blinked for a moment, disoriented and feeling slightly muggy and slow. The curtains were drawn closed, but by the color of the light filtering through, he judged that it was still midday. He made a mental note to thank Jane (who had disappeared) for her consideration.

Pushing himself up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he rubbed his eyes. He certainly felt more awake than he had earlier. If any drowsiness still remained, it was the common after-effect of a nap.

He stood up, noticing that the mug of tea still sat on his bedside table. Wrapping his hand around it, he grimaced. Cold tea. Sniffing the contents, he wrinkled his nose. He decided to bring it with him downstairs. Tea that had been subjected to a microwave wasn't the best (what kind of food or object subjected to the appliance was?) but in the end, it was still a cup of tea saved from the waste.

Unlike his dose of coffee.

Heading downstairs, he arrived at the kitchen to find Jane at the kitchen table, bent over a book. At the sound of his footsteps, she tore her attention away from the text before her to look up. Her face brightened.

"You're up."

He nodded slightly, aware of her eyes following him. Opening the microwave, he placed the mug inside and punched a few buttons. With a click, the appliance began to hum.

"Sorry for being such a grouch," Severus eventually said. "You didn't have to—"

"Of course I did," she interrupted.

"I could have taken care of myself." He studied the cup, slowly spinning in circles and rotating off center.

"Not well."

He turned to face her. "What do you mean, not—"

"Just thank me and tell me I did a good job. By the way," she added, "your tea's done."

The microwave chimed three times. Reaching forward, he removed his cup. Taking a seat opposite hers, he sipped at the drink.

"You know, there's still water in that kettle." She watched the constant motion of his mug, lifting up to his lips and falling down again. "Why not just dump the old stuff out and put in new water?"

"I absolutely detest tea that's been twice boiled."

She shrugged. "Anything's better than the microwave."

"Hmm." His gaze rested on her as she closed her book and stowed it to one side. "Have you had lunch yet?"

She glanced at the digital numbers on the oven's clock in surprise. "Oh. No, not at all. Is it really two already?"

"It would seem so."

"I suppose I should put something together." Briskly, she got up. In that one move, she took complete control of his kitchen. Severus found it slightly amusing and she bustled about. "What do you have?" she peeked into the fridge.

"Well, there's some leftover potatoes, as well as eggs and mayonnaise."

"Potato salad. Sounds good to me. Do you have any bread?"

"It'd be pretty odd if it were in there, wouldn't it?" he asked dryly as he watched her rummage through the drawers of the fridge. "However, you're in luck. I happen to most of a pack of sandwich bread in the back."

"Good!" She pulled out what she needed. "Potato salad sandwiches."

He raised his eyebrow at the idea but said nothing. He was about to get up and assist her when his movement caught her eye. She waved the spatula about.

"Just sit and rest. I can handle making a couple of potato—"

At that moment, a dollop of mayonnaise flew off, landing directly in Severus' tea. The fluffy stuff floated as Severus inspected it.

"Strange concoction. Nice aim, though."

Jane giggled helplessly behind her hand. "I'm so sorry! I'll make you another cup of tea."

He waved her off. "No need. I'd rather not have a cup of tea that's been microwaved and twice-boiled."

Washing off his cup, he placed it on the dish rack. He then turned towards the bread. "Do you want this grilled?" He gestured to the slices on the plastic wrapping.

"Hmm? Sure. I didn't know you had anything to grill the bread; I was just going to toast it."

"Trust me, it'll be way better this way."

In fifteen minutes, lunch was served. Both sat munching hungrily on their quick lunch.

"Heavenly." Jane delicately licked a few crumbs from her fingers.

"I'm not sure about heavenly, but it certainly is enjoyable." He reached for another sandwich, picking one on the side of the half-empty platter. Jane stopped eating to watch him with unveiled amusement.

"Hungry?"

"Ravenous. It's two o'clock."

"And that explains your stomach?" She raised her eyebrow in a way that was disconcertingly similar to his own. He ignored her and bit a large chunk of the sandwich.

"Of course."


	15. Truth Hurts

Yay! I updated at a somewhat soon pace!

And the chapter's kind of long too...so, that's a good thing.

I hope you like the update!

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me.

* * *

Autumn had crept up before Severus was even aware summer was coming to a close. The days shortened gradually, the last rays of the sun's warmth drawing farther away. It was on a clear, crisp evening that Severus and Jane strolled in the park, amongst the fallen leaves. Snuggling a bit into his warm overcoat, Jane contentedly let her head rest on his shoulder. He glanced down.

"Are you cold?"

"Hmm? No."

Before he was even aware, his arm wiggled from between them and pulled her closer. However, she didn't seem to mind. A small breeze fluttered and rustled the leaves underfoot, and their hair whipped and tangled with each other's. He felt Jane raise a hand to brush away a strand that had made its way into her mouth, then the movement of her chin as she looked up at him.

"Do you like autumn?"

His lips curled up into a small smile at her random question. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because…it holds something no other time does. It's when things change, when things make one final move before it's time to leave."

She fiddled with the collar of his coat. "Really?"

He looked at her, the ends of his hair trailing in the frizzy golden-brown mass of her own. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she replied hastily.

He stared at the top of her head for a moment, then sighed when it was apparent that she wasn't going to let go of her act. Letting the thought go for awhile, he stared up at the rapidly fading blue sky. The red of the maples contrasted so vibrantly with their background.

"Severus, can we go sit over there for a bit?"

She pointed over to a small, unoccupied bench to their left. Steering them both to the seat, he took the opportunity to pull away and look her straight in the eye.

"You want to talk about something," he stated.

"No, I just wanted to sit a bit," she protested. However, her acting skills couldn't fool him. She looked anywhere but at him, pretending to take interest in a tuft of dried grass as she rested her chin on the back of the seat. Deciding not to push her, he rationalized that she would soon tell him anyway.

He was right. But he couldn't have wished less that he'd never ever asked her in the first place.

"Did you ever know me before…now?" she asked, casually. She continued staring behind the chair.

"No." The answer was short. Why was she asking him this, of all things?

"Stop lying to me." She turned so that her knees touched his where his legs were propped up on the bench. "Why did you always tell me you never knew me, Severus?"

He was bewildered. How the hell had she managed to find out? He was at a loss of words at the naked feelings crossing her eyes. However, she kept her words and gaze steady.

"When I first met you, I just thought you were another friend. I always wondered how you knew me so well. Damn it," she said fiercely, "I trusted you. And for the wrong reasons, too. When you were so sure that nothing was going to happen, I thought you were one of those rock steady people who couldn't be shaken by anything. And then now…" she trailed off, twisting the fabric of her wool sweater in her hands.

"Jane, I—"

"My name's not Jane. It's Hermione."

The next words slipped out, unchecked. "How the hell did you learn this?"

"Oh, so you thought you could hide it from me?" Her eyes glimmered with tears and defiance. "Maybe this will look familiar to you."

Swiping the tears from her eyelashes, she dug into her purse, pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. With shaking hands, she tore open the folds. "Here." She very nearly threw it at him.

He froze in shock. The letter. His eyes skimmed over the words he had written, remembering every phrase.

Dear Albus and Minerva,

It's been awhile since I've written to you. It's not that I forget; it just seems like time moves so quickly that there's not enough time anymore to do anything.

Jane, or Hermione, is well, as am I. She is still fond of Ginger, and sometimes the two of them together remind me of the days at Hogwarts. However, the calico does not resemble the great monstrosity you say she called Crookshanks at all.

It is as disappointing as it has ever been to find that there still hasn't been a lot of progress made with the cures. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't given up so that I could smell that familiar scent of potions one more time. Perhaps if I had known I'd become so attached to your young Gryffindor, then I would have stayed to research a counter-curse for her memory problem.

But I know as well as the two of you do that it is useless to dwell on something that cannot be anymore. Just wishful thinking, I suppose.

The nightmares have returned again, as it was last year. The months seem to bring back memories as they pass, no matter what month it is. Autumn, of the inevitable horrors in the final battle, and winter, of the Yule parties. Those were the best times to catch students drinking, snogging, or sneaking around and pulling pranks on each other after curfew.

As you reminded me, I know that it is only a small while until Hermione will eventually find out about our secret…

He stopped there, blinking away tears. What a coincidence, he thought bitterly, that such a thing should happen. He cleared his throat quietly, still staring at the paper before him.

"I always knew this would happen, but I hated thinking about it."

"That was never, and still isn't, an excuse, Severus."

"I know, okay?" He ran his fingers through his hair, staring up at the sky, now tinted different hues of orange and pink. "What can I do about it now?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything. I want to know it all. It doesn't seem fair that you know more about me than I do."

His eyes dropped to meet her gaze.

"Where do I start?"

"From the beginning. I want to know everything you can tell me. And…" she swallowed. "Don't hide anything. I don't care what it is, just…don't keep it from me."

"Are you sure?" Part of him was scared that it would hurt her to know. Part of him was stalling for time.

"Yes." Her eyes hardened, and she repeated, "Yes."

He'd never been good at storytelling. A man of rather few words, how was he suppose to tell her the story of her life? And dammit, the beginning wasn't a place to start. It didn't explain anything. However, her stare was beginning to get uncomfortable, and he felt it was high time that she found out what she wanted to know.

"Fine," he said eventually. "Ask me something. I'll try and answer your questions."

She seemed to be trying to organize her questions into a reasonable order. Finally, she settled upon one. "Who am I?"

He mused over the question. It was rather broad, wasn't it?

"Your name is Hermione. Hermione Jane Granger. Your parents were dentists in London—you lived there. I believe that you were a happy child. And then, when you were eleven years old, you received a letter that would change your life forever."

He explained Hogwarts with a feverish passion, recalling his own awe at the threshold of the great hall, the magic of the charmed platform at the train station, and Diagon Alley. He related his own experiences at the sorting ceremony, replacing his own self with her, then recalling what he felt as a professor, sitting at the High Table while the first years filed in. Then came the bountiful feast, the house-elves and her act to try and free them with the unsuccessful organization, S.P.E.W.

He told her then of the Headmaster Dumbledore, his success in finding twelve uses for dragon blood and his ever present twinkle, as well as his incessant love for lemon drops. Next came Minerva, then his own sour self. There was Hagrid, Flitwick, Sinistra, Binns, Hooch, Trelawney, and the ever-changing Defense against the Dark Arts professors: Quirrel, Lockhart, Umbridge, even himself while the arrogant Slughorn took his place. Then came the portraits and the Hogwarts ghosts and the corners they inhabited. And, of course, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

A look of wondrous awe had replaced the hurt look in her eyes. He was relieved for the meanwhile. The same look brightening her features now must have been the same when she had first opened Hogwarts: A History, he mused.

"Tell me more." Her eyes sparkled, like a child with a promise of candy.

He launched into another explanation, his hands moving of their accord as he made a map with his words. There were the Quidditch fields, the greenhouses, and Hagrid's hut, many animals in and between there and the Forbidden Forest. Then, the Great Hall, the dorms, the Astronomy Tower, the classrooms, and of course, the dungeons. Speaking of the Room of Requirement sparked his mind to remember what details she truly was looking for.

Quieter, he related the events that had taken place in the seven years she had been a part of the golden trio. There was her botched Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, made with the supplies she had stolen from his stores. There was the Philosopher's Stone and Fluffy, then the next year with the werewolf Lupin and the accused Sirius Black, and her excessive studies with the use of her time-turner. Then, the Triwizard Tournament and the danger it held as Cedric Diggory breathed his last. Next came Occlumency and the Department of Mysteries, then the search for the Horcruxes. Finally, the Last Battle had arrived. He paused for a moment, noticing that night had fallen on them, unaware. Yet still, she wanted to know more.

"What happened in the end?"

The end. It was a strange phrase. He stared up at the stars for a while. "It was horrible, the end of the wizarding world. Everyone thought that someone would come out victorious. The idea never occurred to anyone, that maybe neither side would survive. In the end, barely anyone was left. You were hit with a curse, the one that is causing your amnesia. I…was hit with something, but the curse never hit me. The time-turner had something to do with that, I suppose."

She hesitated. "Why did you take care of me?"

He looked at her, startled. What did she mean? He hadn't done an ounce of good for the young witch.

"How come you didn't leave me alone? Wouldn't it have been easier to just forget everything?"

He laughed bitterly. "It may seem so. But…you've lost all of your memories. You know what it's like to forget everything." He held her gaze, and she returned her own steadily. "I couldn't live with that. I'd already spent my whole life trying to forget. The rest of the wizarding world is already lost. Should we really lose anymore? Maybe trying to remember would be the best. Albus, Minerva…we've all done all we could. But some of us haven't chosen to give up just yet. I thought I did. But now…perhaps it's different."

It was silent for a moment, and then she dropped her gaze. "Do you think I still have magic?" she whispered.

"Perhaps. But…what use would it be?"

She looked up, a fierce look in her eyes. "What if I could return? What if we researched together? We could help find cures, and—"

"That's what I'd like to think too, Hermione," he interrupted softly. "But it isn't that easy. I know you'd try, and you wouldn't give up until everything was done. After all, you're a Gryffindor. But…we can't return. We both made choices long ago, and we can't turn back."

"But I didn't make that choice! Someone else made if for me!"

"That's the way this world works! Wizarding world, muggle world…in the end, reality's the same thing. It's not any easier there than it is here. It never was. Maybe magic does seem like such a…advantage. But it's not! In the end, we believed in it so much that it just didn't work anymore."

The light from a nearby lamp post flickered across her face, revealing an indiscernible look in her eyes. "You don't believe in magic?"

He looked away, staring at a point beyond her shoulder at a mosquito buzzing around the yellow glow of the lamp. After a few moments, it fluttered away, then bounced back from the darkness.

"No."

She stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Severus…"

"What? Are you going to tell me to trust in hope too? Too many people have. It never worked. They said to trust your parents, but they betrayed me to the Dark Lord. They said to trust Albus Dumbledore, the great figure of love and power, but he made me his spy. They said to believe in Harry Potter, but it all brought down the end. What is there left to believe in? Hope? I hoped for things too many times in my life, all I've come to expect now is failure."

Her voice, desperate, cut through the darkness. "Won't you trust me?"

The words came as a shock. He swallowed at the impact those words had on him. Why? Why should he believe her? Her voice wavered as she spoke.

"Tell me…about you."

He couldn't believe it. Hadn't she asked him to tell her enough? He'd told her the story of her life, of the end of the wizarding world. Now she wanted to hear his own as well? It was somewhere in the back of his head that he realized his throat ached, but it had nothing to do with the time he had spent speaking. The lump in the back of his throat was proof enough.

"Please, Severus." She reached out, her fingertips coming to rest on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, recalling the many times the gesture had been made to him. His grandmother, his father, the dark lord, the headmaster…each time had been different. But this time, it didn't fail to move him like it had so many other times in the past.

"Why?" he roared, pushing himself away. "Haven't you had enough yet? I already told you everything! Did you ever think that there was a reason that I never told you all of…this?"

The emotions flitting across her face should have told him to stop, that she was fighting for control before she blew up like he did, but he was beyond noticing.

"Not everyone's willing to put their lives in the hands of anyone who's willing to take it. I've done my worth of trusting people, and I don't trust anyone anymore. Understand? I don't trust _anyone_."

Her eyes narrowed in anger as she leapt up. "So everything I ever did for you didn't mean anything? When I came over to keep you company, when I tended to you when you needed it? It's like you're just using me!"

"Why would I _use_ you?" He shot back the phrase like it tainted him. "I don't need anyone."

"Oh really? So all of the letters to…to…Albus and Minerva, and all the conversations with me, they never even did anything for you? I was under the impression that people talked with other people for comfort, so that they wouldn't be lonely. And you say you like to be alone? You were the one who asked me to have dinner with you!"

"Oh, so I did, didn't I? Maybe it was because _you_ asked _me_ to be your _friend_! Isn't that what friends are for?" he mocked.

Her mouth dropped at the scathing tone in his words. "I didn't _ask_ you for anything, Severus. I only offered what I had…_everything_ I had. I put it into your hands because I _trusted you_! And guess what? You're the one who took it all!"

"Took what? I'm rather sure it was called 'asking me for help' when you ran to me crying!"

"Dammit, you took all of my trust, my capacity for love! What else did you think it was? Of course I ran to you crying! I thought you wanted me to run to you!"

"Why the hell would I want you to run to me?"

"Because I thought you cared!"

"And why would I care?"

The words hung in the air, slowly dissipating in the ominous silence.

"Maybe because…because…"

"Because what?" He cut in.

She shook her head, trying to explain but only managing a sigh. Collapsing back on to the bench, she bent her head forward so that her hair obscured her face. She mumbled something, but it came out muffled behind her hair.

"Speak up," he demanded impatiently. It was with foreboding that he realized that his old characteristics were beginning to surface again. No, no…they were supposed to be gone! This wasn't supposed to happen! But it was too late to change it now.

Bringing her hand to her mouth, she tried again. Still, he couldn't make out her words. He stared at her bent head, then realized that her shoulders were shaking. A sparkle caught his eye as it fell to the ground.

A tear.

His eyes softened, and he quietly took a seat beside her. "Hermione?"

"I just don't want to argue anymore, okay?" Her voice was tired, laced with tears. She sniffled a bit.

He blinked away his own tears. How had it come down to this? He should have just let it all go; he should have never answered her probing questions. They all had cut too deep. Wasn't this the reason he had run away?

Instead, he just sat there, letting her absorb everything. How he wished he could travel back in time, just to make things right again.

"Severus?" a small voice beside him ventured.

He turned to her, masking the thoughts in his eyes.

"Why did you choose to tell me all of this? You never answered my question."

He paused. Should he tell her? He didn't trust himself not to hurt her again.

"Because I had to. Because it was my responsibility to make sure you knew, in the end."

"And everything you told me about yourself?" She turned to look at him, her eyes big and inquiring. He could see the trails the tears had left on her cheeks. He reached out to brush them away, the pad of his thumb gliding against the smooth skin of her cheek.

"I thought I didn't tell you anything about myself."

"No…" she laughed softly. However, it wasn't a laugh of happiness. Rather, it was one of regret. "No, you told me. A lot, in fact."

"Then what did I tell you?" His eyes captured hers. He could sense something behind the surface, but what it was, he could not tell.

"You told me what you believed in. And what you believed in me. You told me what I really wanted to know."

"I'm sorry, about everything, I…"

"No, shush, you can't be sorry about it all. That's a lot to feel responsible for."

"But at least, for my actions tonight, can you forgive me?"

She focused on a small chip of paint beside his knee. "My trust is like yours, I think. It has to be earned, Severus. You might have had it once, but now…I don't know if I can ever forgive you for what you've just said."

The force of the impact his words must have had on her hit him directly in the heart. If she had the capacity to forgive him, then he would be a fool to walk away. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

She looked back at him, then, without another word, leaned forward to rest against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, staring off into the dark shadows of night.

As they held each other close, he knew deep inside that things couldn't ever be the same again.


	16. Believing in Magic

Long time no update.

However, I took advantage of finals week and wrote this up. I'd say 'hope you enjoy it', but…read on. You'll see.

Disclaimer: Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and Hermione Granger do not belong to me.

* * *

It had been a week since that night. A week, Severus thought, of no Hermione.

He would have never been able to predict the thoughts coming to him now, but it seemed as if everything were missing. The eccentric knocks on the front door at the least expected times never pulled him from his tasks. Her bubbly laughter never floated in from the other room, and her brown, frizzy hair never got in the way. Even small things like the absence of leftovers from a meal they had cooked together seemed to make the strangest places look empty, like the fridge.

He slammed his book with a frustrated growl as he pushed himself out of his chair and paced the rug in the library. Where was she? Couldn't she have at least told him where she was? He'd called her time and time again, hearing the same voice every time as it repeated its cheerful message. He'd hang up over and over, growling at the annoying beep as it sounded its sharp note. The only exception was yesterday morning. After calling her twice, he'd decided that leaving a message was in order. He still hadn't received an answer.

Was she purposely ignoring him? He knew that the time they had spent at the park that night had been far from pleasant, but she hadn't run away from him. Yet. Maybe she had thought it would be a good idea to pack up and hurry away before he could find her. He sneered. She was a Gryffindor; they didn't run away from the likes of a Slytherin.

Of course, she didn't owe anything to him.

Exhaling slowly, he gazed past the window to a small, empty patch of dirt by the gazebo. His eyes misted over slightly as he recalled the day they had spent there. The shade of the trees and the dapples of sunlight kissed their skin, and the grass underfoot caressed their feet. Then, there had been a group of golden daffodils, raised toward the sun. Now, only the brown soil remained. The tousled bumps reminded him strongly of the time they had dug up the last plants.

_"But why not just move them?" she insisted. "That's a lot of bulbs you're throwing away."_

_"Do you see anywhere to move them?" He grunted as he pulled out a particularly stubborn stalk. She fluttered anxiously about him._

_"What if I take a few home? They could still last for a few more days, can't they?"_

_He threw the last stalk in the neat pile beside him. Sitting back on his heels, he looked up at her. "Why?"_

_She sighed in exasperation. "They're _flowers_, Severus. Flowers _live_. It's not right to just throw them away because you think that their slightly tanned petals will ruin the vivacity of your garden."_

_"I already told you, it's not because I think they're ugly," he explained patiently. "The soil's not right for them."_

_"Fine. Then what can we grow here?"_

_He contemplated the soil for a moment, his fingers stroking the petal of a particularly light daffodil. "What do you want to grow?"_

_"I've always like fuchsia."_

_His lip quirked. "There's a big difference between a patch of soil on the ground and a hanging basket."_

_"Oh." She flushed in embarrassment, chewing her lip. A moment later, her eyes brightened. "What about lilies?"_

_He thought about it for a bit. Well, why not? Oranges and whites blossomed in his mind, complementing the green blades of grass perfectly. He imagined Ginger winding her way through the tall stalks, batting at a petal._

_"I think," he said slowly, "that it would be a great idea."_

They'd never gotten the chance to buy any. As everything else seemed to be, it was just a memory.

Turning away, he exited the room and stepped heavily down the stairs. The sunlight streaming in from the window down the hall seemed so dull, and the dust motes circling about him suddenly left him feeling very oppressed. In two fluid movements, he pulled on his boots and stepped outside.

He inhaled slowly, taking in the crisp air around him. An early fallen leaf crinkled beneath his heel, the bits whispering as they brushed across the walkway, branching out around him. It was as if there was a bubble surrounding him—the air didn't quite brush his cheeks, the sounds about him didn't quite reach his ears. It was as if nothing could touch him.

He felt beyond irritated. So what if he happened to be in vacuum in the middle of his garden where nothing just happened to be able to touch him?

How the hell had her leaving been able to make such an important impact?

The warmth of the sun lightly pressed on his eyelids, their weight growing heavy. Blinking as if to brush away the cobwebs in his eyes, he ran a hand along his cheek. So tired…

A brisk walk would have to do. With a renewed vigor forced upon every limb, he made the park his destination. The last beauty of summer hung delicately before him, but he didn't stop to take it in. It occurred to him that had Hermione been here with him, perhaps he would have taken the time. Everything would have been…

Perfect?

Thoroughly angry with himself now, he threw himself moodily on to the bench he usually occupied. Why was he sitting in her seat?

Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care enough to move.

Both legs outstretched onto the path before him as he sat slightly askew on the bench, he crossed his arms and let his chin drop to rest on his chest. He stared at a pebble for awhile, turning it over with his toe. Slowly, his eyes closed.

Something bit at his toe.

He wiggled his shoe a bit, pulling it back.

Something pulled it back just as insistently.

He cracked open one eyelid, his eyebrow rising at the duck now settling its bulk on his shoe. It's plump body, combined with its fluffy feathers, covered his foot completely.

Hermione would have laughed at the sight of a duck turning itself into his slipper. It just stared at him, opening and closing its beak as it swiveled its head a bit before settling its gaze on him once again.

Slightly, he flicked his foot. It waved its wings a bit for balance, then settled down again.

Slowly, he eased his foot from underneath the duck. It looked ruffled for a few moments, then began to pursue his foot again.

He closed his eyes briefly, then:

"GO AWAY!"

He leapt up, his face working furiously. In a startled squawk, the bundle leapt a bit before flying away, still calling. It mingled with the echo of his shout, both hanging in the startled silence around him.

She would have laughed.

Damn it! Why did she keep popping up in his thoughts? The wind adjusted and he shivered a bit, settling back down onto the bench. He couldn't help but feel slightly…disturbed.

Dismissing the thought, he closed his eyes again, hoping that he might be able to ignore the wooden planks digging into his back for a bit of sleep.

However, that was far from coming.

As the wind picked up, a slight curtain of mist blew; covering everything it touched in a fine layer of moisture. He watched a strand of hair wave slightly, a few tiny droplets of water coating it. The wind dropped a bit then picked up again, buffeting the few fallen leaves that were shriveled on the ground. Tumbling and dancing, they lightly kissed the pavement before falling into the grass beyond.

Memories were a lot like that, he thought. New and delicate, they were cherished, like the leaves slowly unfurling on the twig of a tree. Nourished, they kept growing, a large part of life. All too suddenly, something would come and crush it, leaving it in plain view so that it couldn't be ignored. Gradually, the pain would ease, and the memories would blow away, gone from sight but still there.

Yes, memories were a lot like leaves indeed. He snorted moodily. He must have grown soft.

What happened to the bat of the dungeons that could scare away a first year with a careless glance? What about the snarky git that could ignore everything around him and keep his heart tucked out of everyone's view?

Well, almost everyone.

There would be exceptions. Sometimes, when his alcohol couldn't numb the overwhelming pain, when his potions couldn't keep away the horrifying dreams, he would go to Albus. Somehow, the old wizard would always be there, a small lantern before him, the whir of instruments a calming, soothing murmur. A small twinkle would appear in his understanding blue eyes, amazingly clear and wise, as he offered a cup of tea, replaced with worry when his colleague would refuse. The wizard could listen to Severus' tantrums and fits of rage like no one else could, even when the walls around them came crashing down.

The very image of a strong wizard, he was. Like a true Gryffindor, he would willingly bear the burdens of many others, always brave and strong.

Then here was Hermione. Or was it Jane? To him, she was like two different people. He had never gotten to know any of his students, and didn't make any special advances to learn about Hermione Granger either. She was the bookworm, know-it-all, and Gryffindor star pupil.

But Jane was different. She was the bubbly smiling young woman who didn't mind running to someone if she needed comfort, or if someone ran to her for a small moment of rare understanding. She was the one who smiled at every greeting, every word. She was the one who adopted cats and tended to gardens, who cooked and read on every subject imaginable. She was the one who stopped by everyday for a small conversation, halting reality for a few carefree moments…

But then, who was she now? Was she Hermione? Jane? Someone else? Indeed, both of them seemed like figments of the past.

Severus tried to banish the thoughts from his mind, but they persisted. Maybe he still had yet to learn from them before they would go away.

As the rain blew harder, a teardrop fell from his eyes, mingling with the wetness there.

* * *

"Severus? Severus?"

He caught a glimpse of the voice calling his name, but it was fuzzy, as if it were too far away.

"Severus?"

He heard a tinkling laugh as he stirred. Nodding slowly, he blinked, his vision blurry.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

The feeling of four paws leaping onto his lap then tickling and kneading his thighs brought him fully awake. Ginger's whiskers brushed his cheek lightly as she nuzzled his neck. Bringing his hand up to stroke the cat, he looked up, and his breath caught.

"Hermione?" He asked softly.

"Yes, of course". She frowned. "Who did you think I was?"

He contemplated the question as the cat purred beneath his ministrations. He couldn't tell her that he had been frightened for a moment that she might have been Jane, that she might not have remembered anything, could he?

"I'm not Jane, Severus." She spoke as if she could read his thoughts. Kneeling next to him, she played with Ginger's tail. Then she looked up, her eyes inquiring. "Why would I be? You told me, didn't you?"

"Told you what?" He studied her, put she averted her eyes.

"What was most important to me. My memories…my life."

He lifted up the furry bundle in his lap, settling it closer to Jane. The cat stared at him curiously for a moment before cuddling with her owner. He took the opportunity to stretch a bit.

"I didn't just tell you," he reminded her. "I also hid them from you."

"I've been meaning to ask you: Why did you hide them from me?"

He stood up, arms crossed as he stared out into the distance. "Because I was scared." It seemed as if he admitted to being scared of a lot of things these days.

"Scared of what?"

He shrugged, feeling her eyes bore into his back. Ginger leapt lightly to the ground behind him, twisting about his ankles a bit before disappearing between the trunks in a grove of trees.

"I don't know. Maybe that you'd hate me…or leave."

She stood up and came to stand beside him, her arm brushing his.

"I wouldn't just leave."

"Then where were you? For a week?" He felt a protective anger welling up inside.

She laughed softly. "I'm still not here, you know."

"What?"

"You're so vulnerable in your dreams."

Around him, things began to shift. The park he was in faded, and everything darkened. The floor was black, stretching to infinity. At the edges, a pinkish light glowed. It was like a sunrise, rising from every direction. It brought out her eyes from the shadows on her face, he noticed. He took in the small stars dotting the sky, faintly twinkling.

"A dream?" he repeated. "Then how are you here?"

She smiled, as if she knew something he didn't. Leaning over, she put a finger on his lips to shush him.

"Magic." Stairs materialized, and she began climbing them. They seemed to have no end, and he didn't know where the zigzagging staircase would eventually lead them. However, he followed her. She spoke again.

"You told me once that you didn't believe in magic anymore. What would it take to make you believe in it again?"

"I don't know."

"How do you not know?" She seemed to think a bit. "Well, do you believe in magic because I've appeared in your dream?"

He nearly snorted. "No."

She shrugged, then twirled on a landing. "At least it's a place to start." He watched her, afraid she might fall. As if she heard his thoughts, she turned towards him. "What if I did this?"

She jumped in a graceful arc from the landing. Horrified, he watched her fall for a hear-stopping second, the float in nothingness. She laughed at the expression on his face. "Did you think I would disappear? It's your dream; I can't fall if you don't want me to."

"I'd still feel all the better if you didn't jump."

To tease him, she just fluttered away further. "I have a secret."

He felt a bit irked by her careless change of topic. He took a seat on the landing, his legs dangling off the edge. He raised an eyebrow at her expectant expression. "Really?"

"Yes." Content, she continued to dance, as if the random topic didn't mean anything.

"Would you tell me?" He couldn't help but feel a little curious.

"You wouldn't be able to understand it if you didn't believe in magic."

He sighed in exasperation. "How do I 'believe in magic'?"

"Come and dance with me." He couldn't tell if that was an answer or if she hadn't heard him. "Come on."

Tentatively, he took a step. It felt as if he were…floating. Maybe it was because of the lack of ground beneath his feet. Before he could get used to this new change, she grabbed his arm and twirled him around. He laughed softly at the delighted look on her face, regaining control. "Music, perhaps?"

"Certainly."

She snuggled up to him as he wrapped his arms around her, and music began to play. The sounds were muted as if they were to fade at any moment, rising then pulling away.

"Now?" She asked, her voice muffled.

"Now what?"

"Now do you believe in magic?"

He decided to humor her. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Almost." She sighed, a small exhale ruffling the tips of his hair.

"What do I have to?"

Well, it was his dream, so why not? He bent down a bit so that his lips were beside her ear. "Kiss me."

She pulled back slightly in surprise. This time, it was he who laughed at her expression.

"Well?" He waited.

"Anything, I suppose, to make you believe in magic." She brushed her lips across his cheek, then rested her head on his chest again.

"Now?"

"Maybe." He smirked at her pout, giving up. "Yes."

"Good." This time, the slowly pulsing music faded away completely. She pulled away. "Now I can tell you my secret." She continued humming small strains of the music to herself, a solitary dancing figure.

"Okay." He raised an eyebrow, prompting her. She didn't seem to notice. He growled. He would have chosen that moment to wake up if she hadn't finally decided to comply. Even then, sleep began to slip.

She stood on tip-toe, close to him. "I love you."

Kissing him full on the mouth, she disappeared, fadingalong with the stars around him…

* * *

He blinked, his fingers reaching up to smooth a crick on his neck. Damn, it really was raining.

Deciding that the rain didn't feel all too horrible, he straightened into a more comfortable position, wiping some of the rain from his forehead. His thoughts wandered back to the dream.

The images were still vibrant and sharp in his mind. As he mentally went through it again, he realized that there wasn't a single fuzzy spot. Indeed, it felt as real as some of the nightmares he used to have, when the Dark Lord had communicated with him through sleep…

He pushed back the thought. It did no good dwelling on matters so old. But…what if she really was trying to tell him something? She certainly had enough magic to send him a dream. But why?

Pushing himself up, he began to walk back. The street lamps glowed in the darkness, rain catching the light like shards before disappearing in the shadows again. Feeling the rain come down harder and already soaked to the bone, he fumbled with the doorknob, stepping into the tiled foyer.

He grimaced at the quiet. All he could hear was the dripping of his coat. Flicking on a pair of light switches, he hit the next switch in the kitchen. The dark interior illuminated, he grabbed one of the towels from the rack, drying off his hair, then wrapping it around his neck. He spotted his answering machine, the message light blinking, and made his way around the counter to it. Frowning, he played the message.

_Sst, ssst, sst_.

It was fuzzy, and he listened to a few seconds of silence, jumping when the strong voice of a careworn man began to speak.

_Hello, this is Doctor Windhyme, Jane's doctor_.

He froze, then slowly put down the towel, listening with dread.

_I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but at six o'clock this evening, she passed away from brain complications. We give you our deepest regrets. If you could contact me…_

He heard no more, stunned.

Hermione was _dead_?

* * *

Dun dun dun. Is she dead? Does magic save her?

Review with your opinions! I'd love to hear what you think!


	17. Epilogue

I'm sorry for the long wait! I couldn't get this last chapter up for almost a week, and I was fully prepared to finally put up this epilogue! I know a lot of you were awaiting to see what finally happened to Hermione, and I'm sorry the update took so long.

I want to pay Honoria a special apology for accidentally labeling this story as complete. I did that with full intentions that this last chapter was up, and forgot to change it back to in progress. Sorry.

Okay, enough of that. You all know that characters aren't mine, and I hope you enjoy the ending!

* * *

_My dearest Severus,_

_I know it may seem like I've been ignoring you lately. Indeed, I'll admit that I didn't want to face you after that evening. But I can't just leave an unresolved problem there, so that the last memories are all suspended in thin air. As a result, I'm writing this._

_You may wonder, still, at least why I haven't come to see you for a week. I'm in the hospital. I'm not incredibly weak or anything. Rather, I've found myself blacking out quite often, and during a recent check-up, the doctors determined that it had something to do with a brain problem and amnesia. I don't know the details (I try not to listen too hard) but I have a feeling that I might not live much longer._

_I know people usually try to comfort you, to try and tell you that it will be okay, to move on, not to worry. It just doesn't seem quite right to say that to you. I think you already know—after all, you've dealt with death before, haven't you? You've taught me so much about life that I would just sound redundant repeating these things to you._

_However, I do want you to know a few things before I leave. As I sit quietly on this bed, no light peeking in from the curtains pulled tightly closed beside me, I realize that I've underestimated all too much the times I've spent with you. There's only an artificial light above me, and it reminds me a lot of my lonely dorm I occupied in college before you found me. It seems so long ago, that day you walked me back home…or maybe not. I think home is with you. The dorm was just a place I occupied during a stage in life. You protected me, made me happy…I can't imagine feeling safer and more loved anywhere else. I feel content with you, and I feel as if I can trust you with more than my life. Sadly, there's not much more I can give to you._

_But that's beside the point. There're just so many things I want to tell you, but I don't know where to start._

_Could you keep Ginger for me? I'm certain she wouldn't mind staying with you—we found her in your garden, after all. At least now she'll get an open backyard to run in rather than a few pieces of furniture to navigate. I have a feeling she's always wished for that. Keep her safe; I trust you'll get to know each other well. You both can keep each other company during sad times. It can't be any harm to own a pet, anyway. Don't fuss about it; she's yours now._

_Have you planted the lilies yet? I can well imagine them blooming there, next to the lawn and the gazebo. I'm sure they'll be beautiful come spring, and for the while when there's just soil, you can remember the promise of life. For every daffodil that died, plant a new lily._

_Don't forget to take a little time from everything everyday. I know that there's always something to do in the garden and a book always awaits in your magnificent library. I can imagine you saying right now that it is time spent away from everything, tending to chores in solitude. After all, what could be more relaxing? Yet maybe a visit to the park, just to sit on the bench and watch everything pass by, would be just the thing. I know it will bring back memories—what won't? But you never know who you'll meet or what you'll find._

_On the other hand, life still has a purpose. I feel that you came here to get away from everything, but you can't hide from your problems forever. I know that this is your home now, and I couldn't ever get you to go back to the world you once knew. But for me, never stop believing in magic. Believe that nothing's impossible, and that there's always something to find out there. Never stop seeking for answers, however irrelevant they may seem. Do it by writing a journal, dreaming…however you want. I gave you a little magic—don't forget to share it with others! Magic can't be kept a secret for long._

_Thank you for always being there for me, Severus. Every time I came running to you, you were never at a loss for an answer. Even if the answer sometimes wasn't truly an answer at all, you gave me what I needed to tackle life's challenges again. How can I ever repay you? I just hope you don't mind me pouring out all of my feelings to you._

_I still wonder if I have magic running through me. It seems like a dream, to be able to call things to you with a flick of wrist, to be able to control things with your mind. Of course, you'd probably say it wasn't so simple. I can always wish very hard for magic to happen, and I'm certain it will. But do you think I could have become a witch again if I had the time to learn it? Maybe I was just seeing things, but I thought I saw an envelope hovering above my table just the other day. Well, I guess it doesn't do much good to think about things like this, it will probably only make me feel worse and get grumpy all over again. But I can't help thinking: what if I could help? It would be great to find cures and counter curses to all of the things that happened in the war. Or even if I couldn't, I could help rebuild hope, couldn't I? I would have to bring you along though, you're the star that fuels my hope, and I would probably burn out without you._

_When I leave, I'll still be with you. I know that the two statements completely contradict each other, but this is what I'm trying to say. After I go, I'll come back everyday to check on you, to make sure you're okay. Nothing can stop me from coming into the room you're in and smiling at you, whether it's the rain or the sun. And if you're not okay, I'll do everything I can to make everything okay again. After everything you've done for me, I have to stay. It's not like I won't move on to my next life (if there is one, or whatever happens after we all die), but I'll visit! Don't hide from me, because it'll make me worry._

_I look forward to seeing you once more, whether it's today or in our next life. Do you think we'll remember each other? I hope so; I don't want to lose everything that happened in this lifetime. It's all so valuable._

_Don't worry about me. I'm happy and content, and hopefully, that will help you get through whatever fight you're ever in. I wouldn't want life any other way, and meeting you was the best present of my life. Thank you._

_I'll always love you,_

_Hermione_

_The man at the desk smiled gently for a moment, closing the book with a love only bestowed on the most cherished objects. Sliding it back into place in the drawer of a desk, he stared at his hands, then used them to push himself out of his chair. Running his fingers through his graying hair, he walked over to the open window._

_The garden was much the same as it had always been, he mused. The orchard trees still bore the sweetest fruit, and the flowers brightened the landscape during the warm seasons. The gazebo still stood, tall and sturdy._

_Beside the gazebo, lilies bloomed. Their arrangements swayed lightly as a cat stalked through, placing a paw on a stone in the middle of the flowers. He didn't have to squint to know what it said._

Hermione Jane Granger

An angel reincarnated

For whom trust, love and magic will always bloom

_A small smile tugged at his lips. Her beaming face, brown eyes sparkling as her hair tumbled around her would always stay in his mind. Indeed, she did come visit everyday. More times than not, she would come with Ginger late in the afternoon, her scent coming with the breeze. Sometimes, he would feel her fingers brush his hair from his temple, and he would close his eyes, imagining how she would look like standing before him._

_The rain had stopped. Just then, a sliver of sunlight came to land on Ginger and the stone. He turned away, straightening the trunk by the door before leaving. Closing the door gently behind him, he stepped down the stairs._

_If he just believed a little in magic, he could see Hermione there again._

_

* * *

_

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed the story!


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